


thirsty

by SquishyCool



Series: in for a penny, in for a pound [4]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: 70's Music, 80's Music, 90's Music, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Awkward Flirting, Breathplay, Cheating, Choking, Consensual Sex, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Denial of Feelings, Dirty Talk, Dog has his own personality and it’s Judgmental, Dream Sequence, F/M, Fluff, Gratuitous Smut, Humor, Idiots in Love, Internal Monologue, Jealousy, Kinky Beth Greene, Light Angst, Love Bites, Making Out, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Masturbation, No Condoms Ever, Nude Photos, Ok hear me out: merle actually has some good advice to give, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Original Poetry - Freeform, POV Daryl Dixon, Pet Names, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Secret Fling, Self Confidence Issues, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Tapes, Sex Toys, Sexting, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Shared Sexual Awakening, Shower Sex, Simultaneous Orgasm, Slang, Slight Infatuation, Slightly Neurotic Daryl Dixon, Smut, Sneaking Around, Social Media, Song Lyrics, Summer Romance, Tattoos, Team Family are all alive and mutual friends, Texting, Truck Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Very Bold Beth Greene, Wet Dream, and beth's insatiable lust, featuring daryl's absolutely astounding stamina, meme references, merle's gf is way cooler than daryl's and daryl is kinda pissed about it, suggestive emoji usage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 79,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28977507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquishyCool/pseuds/SquishyCool
Summary: It was only supposed to be a secret summer fling. Darylknowshe shouldn’t be doing this. But so does Beth, and that doesn’t seem to be stopping her. She ain't so innocent as she looks. Hell, he's pretty sure she never was.She’ll be leaving soon anyhow. Then it’ll be over. He won’t be tempted by desire anymore, and he can return to his mundane life and even more mundane daydreams.Nah, he’s not catchin' feelings. He’s just thirsty as hell.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon & Merle Dixon, Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene
Series: in for a penny, in for a pound [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653958
Comments: 418
Kudos: 170





	1. good vibrations

**Author's Note:**

> Whether y'all wanted it or not... here it is. Part 4 of the series. I'm trying out some new things in this fic, but still writing it purely for fun, so things will never get too heavy or serious.  
> If you haven't read the previous 3 fics, we're getting into territory where it's kinda necessary. Unless you're just here for the smut. In which case, welcome, and I hope you enjoy!  
> Picking up right where we left off in the previous fic.
> 
> Gonna try to keep this around 40k~ words just like _risk it all_ and _lost in the sauce_ , but knowing me, it will turn out a little longer. Please let me know what you think :)
> 
> Don't forget, there's a [Pinterest board](https://pin.it/408FzHD) and a [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5KQgevZNIq5aY6ZL2hNRhO) for this series!

**good vibrations**

Daryl couldn’t keep his hands off Beth.

Once they’d broken that barrier and returned to the comfort zone of sharing bodily fluids and placing their lips on every inch of one another’s skin, everything else came easily.

It was like he was magnetized towards her. He couldn’t bear to look at her and _not_ touch her. 

They wound up in his bed, kissing heatedly while he propped himself up with his elbows. She squirmed beneath him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, bucking her hips up towards his and searching for friction. He leaned his weight on one elbow and reached a hand down to slip it beneath her sundress. Up her thigh. Straight to the heat between her legs. As soon as he touched her there, she moaned into his mouth.

He broke their kiss and opened his eyes to gaze down at her. Her eyelids fluttered and she looked back up at him with lust-blown pupils, her lips swollen and red. 

“What’d ya bring in that bag’a yers?” He breathed out.

She smirked and her eyes lit up. “Just my vibrator—”

“The one from that video ya sent me?”

“Yeah.”

He growled and pressed two fingers down on her clit, eliciting a small gasp of surprise and pleasure from her open mouth. Her smirk grew into a grin.

“Why? You wanna use it?” She asked, her voice more strained and breathless.

“Wanna watch _you_ use it,” he mumbled before lowering his head and planting a trail of gentle, lingering kisses along the side of her neck.

She moaned quietly and her arms tightened around his shoulders, dainty fingers digging into his back through the fabric of his wife beater. 

“D’you—” she began to ask, but hesitated. He lifted his head and looked at her. Her grin was gone and she appeared uncertain. “D’you think it’s… _freaky_ that I like bein’ choked?”

He smirked. “A little,” he admitted. “But I _like_ freaky.”

 _I like_ **_you_** _,_ he almost said, but caught himself before it could slip out.

Her cheeks flushed pink and she smiled, leaning in to kiss him hungrily. He shoved his tongue into her mouth and drank in her soft little sounds of pleasure, barely teasing her clit with the tips of his fingers. 

He breathed out, “Yer _trouble_ —and it turns me on like ya wouldn’t believe.”

She giggled and kissed him even harder, grinning against his mouth.

“With a capital T. I guess all these years of church didn’t do much for me, huh?” She whispered into their kiss. She giggled again, and it sounded almost wicked as it reverberated down his throat.

And his dick was _achingly_ rock hard for the second time in barely two hours.

Good girl gone bad? Or bad girl under a Godly southern veil?

He couldn’t tell, and quite frankly, he didn’t care. For tonight, she was _all his_.

* * *

He fingered her for a few minutes, swallowing down all her breathy little gasps, struggling not to reach down and start touching himself. But he wanted to savor it. Wanted to make it last. Who knew if this would be the last time he’d get to touch her like this? He was gonna make damn sure that it was memorable.

For _both_ of them.

She finally pulled away and climbed off the bed to rush off towards the living room, where she’d left her bag. As she stood up, he reached out and gave her ass a playful slap. She laughed and shot him a coy smile. 

While she was gone, Daryl pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the floor. He left his boxers on, though. For now. He listened to the sound of her footsteps padding through the living room, and he wondered if this actually _would_ be the last time he’d get to touch her. To lie with her. To trace his tongue across her sweet skin and tell her how beautiful and irresistible he thought she was. To whisper all the dirty shit into her ear that her little college boyfriend was too cowardly to say. 

She’d said she wasn’t leaving for another three weeks, right? Well, closer to two weeks now. That left another two weekends that they could potentially spend together. If she wasn’t too busy with all that family and all those friends she’d mentioned. And if he hadn’t agreed to spend next weekend with Andrea. Or maybe he could— 

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden burst of music coming from the living room. She’d put another record on. _The Beach Boys’ Greatest Hits_ was blasting through Daryl’s small cabin, and a moment later, Beth was returning to the bedroom, an excited grin plastered to her face and a familiar pink vibrator in her hand. It was smaller than it had appeared in her Snapchat video: a hand-sized, wand-shaped, silicone toy with a slight curve in the middle and two tiny buttons on the handle. 

“What is it with you an’ oldies?” He teased.

She tossed the phallic little vibrator onto the bed and reached down to grab the hem of her skirt, lifting it up and pulling her whole dress off over her head. She let it fall to the floor atop his shirt before stepping over and climbing onto the bed. He tried to bite back the little gasp that wanted to come out when he saw her fully naked.

“I dunno,” she said. “Maybe I just have a preference for _classics_.”

 _Classics, huh?_ He thought. _I know I’m gettin’ old, but I dunno about bein’ a classic._

Regardless, he smirked and reached out to grab her arm and pull her down to her previous position lying in the center of the bed. She obliged, blonde hair splaying out beneath her head and across his pillows. He was on his knees on the bed, and he sat there for just a second, gazing down and admiring her bare form. She was all sun-tanned skin and long legs and little peaking nipples; modest curves and jutting bones and soft, supple flesh. And she smelled nearly as sweet as she _tasted_.

It was one thing to cup her breast while her dress was hiked up around her waist and he was pounding into her, but it was a whole other to actually see her completely naked and bared before him like this. Ready. Waiting. Lying in _his_ bed, on _his_ pillows, eager for _his_ touch. The Beach Boys were echoing around him.

_“—Close my eyes, she’s somehow closer now. Softly smile, I know she must be ki-i-ind. Whe-e-e-n I look in her eyes, she goes with me, to a blossom world—I-I’m pickin’ up good vibrations, she’s givin’ me excitations…”_

Shit. Wasn’t a half-bad soundtrack for sex. Just like she’d said about Journey.

“You jus’ gonna stare at me all night?” She teased. “Or…?”

His face warmed up and his cock twitched beneath his boxers. “Nah. Well—maybe.” He licked his lips.

She flushed pink.

He jerked his chin towards the vibrator lying beside her. “You need some help, er…?”

Her eyebrows rose and she bit her lip, glancing at the vibrator and hesitating. Then she glanced him up and down. Her gaze lingered on his prominent erection for just a second. “You… _wanna_ help? Or like, you wanna watch…?”

“Both,” he burst out. His chest, neck, and face were warm and he knew he was probably close to beet red. But he didn’t really care. All he could focus on were her fingers inching towards the pink vibrator; her eyes lingering on his licentiously.

She seemed to build up a little more confidence at the needy tone of his voice. Her fingers wrapped around the vibrator and she picked it up, grasping it loosely. His cock jumped at the sight. 

His mind briefly flashed back to the fantasies he’d imagined while he’d jerked off to her Snapchat video. How he’d pictured himself holding a dildo and helping her get herself off. And he kinda wanted to bring that fantasy to life. Because there was nothing that pleasured him more than seeing her orgasm, whether it be from his own dick or her fingers or a toy.

He was just happy to be included at all.

He licked his lips and another question poured from his mouth, uninhibited, “Y’bring anythin’ else? Or jus’ that?”

She paused with the little pink vibrator in hand. “Just this. Why? _Should_ I have brought somethin’ else?”

He shrugged, trying to appear indifferent even though he could see her eyes flicking down towards his cock. He knew she’d seen the way it jumped and twitched at her words. “I’ono,” he mumbled bashfully.

“Yer a little _freaky_ , too, huh?” She smirked and huffed out a breath. “You must’ve really liked that video.”

Well, she had him there. Not like he could deny it. Not when she was lying naked before him, giving him _that_ look.

He nodded.

Her eyes narrowed, and _that_ look on her face sent a jolt of electricity through his bones. She asked in a provocative whisper, “You wanna watch me fuck myself, Dixon?”

 _Jesus Christ._ God help him. He was a fucking goner.

He stiffened and his cock twitched with need. He had to swallow hard to repress a small groan. “Yeah—I do, Greene.”

Her smirk curled into a devilish half-smile and she leaned her head back into the pillows. “Good. ‘Cause I wanna see what you looked like when you touched yerself to my video.”

Oh _fuck_.

He didn’t have time to really react, because the next thing he knew, she was bending her knees, placing her feet flat on the bed, spreading her legs wide, and pressing the power button on the vibrator. It hummed to life, quiet and steady and barely audible over The Beach Boys. Then she was holding it against her clit, all the while her eyes were locked on his. Her soft, pink lips formed an _O_ and her eyelids fluttered with pleasure.

It was like one of his deepest fantasies come to life. Like watching that Snap video he wished he could’ve saved, but _better_. So much better. Because he was watching it in real time.

He was mesmerized by the sight, unable to tear his eyes away once they drifted down to watch her holding the vibrator against herself while her other hand rested over her pubic area, her fingers forming a V above her clit and spreading the lips of her nether region. He could see the wetness gathering at her entrance, glistening in the dim bedroom light. She was still swollen and sensitive from getting fucked on the kitchen counter, and she’d already come at least twice—on his face _and_ on his dick. But she wasn’t even _close_ to being done.

Neither was he. Shit, he could go all night with this girl. And he intended on doing just that.

Breathy little gasps were escaping from her open mouth. Eyelashes fluttered against pink-tinted cheeks. And she worked the vibrator over her clit, moving it in tiny circles. Her abdomen tightened, her legs trembled, and her sticky sweet arousal dripped down the tender skin beneath her cunt. All the while, music played in the background.

_“—Gotta keep those lovin’ good vibrations, a-happenin’ with her. Gotta keep those lovin’ good vibrations, a-happenin’…”_

Like a soundtrack to his own personal sex tape. 

A low growl escaped Daryl’s throat and he shivered. His hand moved towards his dick almost instinctively, unable to resist. He began to touch his hard cock through the thin fabric of his boxers.

Her eyelids fluttered open and she shot him a meaningful look, continuing the steady motion of the vibrator against her clit. “Lemme _see_ you touch yerself.”

He obeyed without question. While she watched, he yanked down his boxers and tossed them aside. His erection jutted out prominently, and he made a point to keep his eyes locked on hers— _and_ her pretty little pussy—as he wrapped one hand around the shaft. He groaned low and guttural from the contact. He gave a loose stroke and groaned again, all his muscles tightening with anticipation.

She was visibly tensing up, as well. Though she continued breathing heavily and holding the vibrator against her clit, meticulously moving it in just the right pattern.

Daryl gave his cock another stroke and watched her react. Her eyes lit up, her jaw went slack, and her hips bucked upward to press herself harder against the vibrator.

Goddamn, she _was_ freaky. She fuckin’ _liked_ this—seeing him jerk himself off. Dirty little thing that she was, he should’ve known.

But he never could’ve guessed. Though he had to admit… it was really _fucking hot_. He’d never, in his wildest dreams, thought that any woman would find gratification in how he looked, let alone how he looked when he was jerking off. He certainly had never expected a woman like _Beth_ to get gratification out of it. She was so beautiful, and he was so… well, not in her league. Not even close.

Yet all the same, this was the kind of territory he’d always wanted to explore. And who better to explore it with than this kinky, freaky, _impossibly_ _sexy_ woman?

She made him feel nervous and self conscious and downright terrified. But she also made him feel more bold and brazen and _alive_ than he’d ever felt before in his life.

Christ. Maybe he really _did_ kinda love this crazy college chick.

 _Alright, get outta here, brain. It’s time for the_ **_other_ ** _head to take over for a couple hours._

He began to build up a rhythm with his hand around his cock that matched the rhythm of the vibrations against her clit. She kept looking him up and down, eyelids droopy and face blushing. He gazed back, though his eyes kept drifting down towards her pert breasts and her spread pussy lips. 

“ _Jesus_ ,” she gasped out. “You’re so fucking _sexy_ , Daryl.”

It nearly took him out of it. But he was well past the point of being turned off. And the tone of her voice—the desperation and the _need_ that lay behind it—made him think she was being honest. The way she stared at him and moaned with pleasure; the way her face contorted with every wave of ecstasy. It all told him that she _meant_ it. 

He merely grunted and continued stroking himself, filled with a whole new confidence. “Not as sexy as you.” He tilted his head back and struggled to contain the first tingles of climax. “Fuck, yer _perfect_ , Beth.”

She inhaled sharply and he glanced down just in time to see her legs give a reflexive jerk. But she didn’t interrupt her motions with the vibrator. Her eyes were glued to his cock, and the loose grip he held it with, watching with parted lips as he stroked himself. He gritted his teeth together and fought back the heat that was quickly building in his groin and spreading up to fill the pit of his stomach.

 _Not yet, not yet, not yet,_ he told himself. _Gotta make this last._

But holy _fuck_ , was it difficult. Especially when he was gazing down at her and that perfect, pink pussy in all its glory. Especially when he was thinking about what _she_ might’ve been thinking about the night before—did it actually get her off to imagine him touching himself? Did she experience a burst of ecstasy at the idea of finally conquering the rough older man she’d had her eye on since high school?

Was it anything like the burst of ecstasy he felt when he saw this innocent little church girl bare naked and begging for his cock?

He couldn’t bear to keep looking at her without touching her. He had to remind himself he wasn’t playing the voyeur through a phone screen this time—he was inches away, he was the _reason_ for her breathy moans and gasps. He could touch her, he could come _on_ her instead of to the mere image of her. He could help _her_ come.

He reached out tentatively with the hand that wasn’t stroking his dick, barely grazing the inside of her thigh with his fingertips.

She moaned long and low at the contact, and he saw the muscles in her abdomen tense up, her legs shaky. Her eyes dragged up to meet his, heavy-lidded and bright blue with lust. 

He wanted to be closer. _Needed_ to be closer.

She continued the motions with the vibrator against her clit and whined, “ _Touch_ me, baby.”

 _Baby_ again. That shit hit different when she was mere inches away, legs spread wide with the traces of his dried come still stuck to her inner thighs.

What did it mean? Nothing, probably. She was in the throes of ecstasy. _Anything_ could slip out of her mouth.

Regardless, he’d be whatever she wanted. Dixon, handsome, Daryl, baby… _whatever_.

But the tone of her voice told him that _she_ needed him closer, too. And that was all the push he required.

A second later, he was crawling forward on the bed, closing the small distance between them, stopping and sitting up on his knees between her open legs. He resumed stroking his achingly hard cock, while his other hand ran its way up her inner thigh. She trembled beneath his touch and moaned. He could see her wet arousal pooling from the depths of her spread entrance. He so badly wanted to lean down and start lapping it up with his tongue, but a larger part of him wanted to watch her come without intervention. Just so he could see _how_ wet she got. So he could see how _ready_ she would be for his dick.

He also wanted to touch the rest of her. And keep touching himself. His hand drifted up across her goosepimpled skin, over the expanse of her belly, eliciting a throaty moan of pleasure from her open mouth. She stared up at him with nothing less than unbridled desire.

His cock jumped in his hand, but he kept stroking. He flicked his thumb across the head and spread the precome down his shaft, biting back a groan. His hand kept drifting up Beth’s body until his fingertips were brushing over her jutting ribcage, and then they were ghosting across the tiny peaks of her nipples. She shuddered and bucked her hips up toward the vibrator. He bit down on his lip and tried to suppress the constantly building heat at the pit of his stomach. But _fuck_ , it had never felt so goddamn _good_ to jack off.

Then again, he’d never had a gorgeous creature like _Beth_ at his fingertips for these moments.

“No, _really_ touch me,” she panted. _Demanded_.

He obeyed, pinching a nipple between his forefingers. Then he was cupping her small breast in his palm, kneading it, stroking his cock in time with the motions. She let out a soft moan of pleasure and squeezed her eyes shut.

“ _Ohh_ , Daryl,” she purred.

His dick jumped and precome seeped from the tip, and he couldn’t help but stroke himself a little faster. The vibrator hummed against her clit. He couldn’t resist—he leaned down and wrapped his lips around her nipple. A groan escaped his throat, vibrating against her skin, and she moaned in time with the stimulation. His hand froze and went motionless around his throbbing cock.

Beth jolted and trembled beneath him. Then she begged, “I wanna feel you _inside_ me.”

Daryl nearly came at the very sound of those words hitting his ears. But he restrained himself, desperate to feel her around his dick once more. It was pretty nice to touch himself and admire her, but it was nothing compared to actually being inside of her. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, he’d released the grasp around his cock and scooted himself up until he was positioned right between her legs. Until his precome-soaked tip was less than a gentle thrust away from her quivering entrance.

She kept the vibrator against her clit, humming steadily, while her other hand remained firmly atop her pubic region. And she gazed up at him expectantly. He took a deep breath. One hand cupped her breast and teased her nipple while the other lay flat on the bed beside her hip, bearing his weight. 

“Y’see how hard ya get me?” He growled.

Her eyes lit up. “Yeah—you see how wet I am?”

He groaned from his throat and thrust forward. The head of his dick barely grazed her entrance. He pulled back quickly. “ _Fuck_ ,” he muttered. “I _feel_ it, girl.”

Beth inhaled a stuttered breath and bucked her hips forward. “Make me _come_.”

Daryl didn’t hesitate with his response. “Planned on it.” He thrust into her, shivering as his engorged cock broke through the tight walls of her well-lubricated pussy. She squealed, and it morphed into a drawn-out moan of pleasure.

Then he was enveloped in her warmth, pushing further and further forward until he could feel that familiar resistance at the back of her clit. The vibrations of the sex toy were barely noticeable behind her pulsating walls and the gushing wetness that seemed to have been awaiting him.

He shoved himself inside her until he was literally balls deep, then he slowly pulled back out, inch by torturous inch. Reveling in the trembling of her muscles. The way her nipple hardened between his fingers.

But just being inside her wasn’t enough. He needed to feel her on _every_ inch of his skin. Needed to _taste_ her. 

He tried to maintain a slow and tantalizing rhythm as he leaned down and wrapped his lips around her nipple, arching his back to allow room for the vibrator against her clit between their bodies. She let out a long moan, which told him he must be doing _something_ right. So he kept it up. He flicked his tongue out and traced it around her areola, all the while shoving his cock deeper inside her warm, wet cunt. 

She was practically falling apart beneath him at this point. Her muscles were alternating between taut and loose, and her breathing had become labored, her chest heaving at his every touch. 

_Fucking_ _shit_ , he’d never felt so _powerful_. 

The vibrator hummed quietly and Beth twitched, whining with need whenever Daryl thrust in and out. He sucked a little harder on her tit and elicited another guttural moan from the depths of her throat. She bucked up into him. He had to pull back just the slightest, for fear of coming too soon. The heat in his gut was becoming unbearable; like a bubble that was close to bursting.

He released her nipple from between his lips and raised his head to gaze at her face. Her cheeks were bright red and her eyelids were fluttering, mouth stuck in a near-permanent _O_ of ecstasy. 

Just the way he liked to see her.

He gave a deep thrust between her legs and moaned along with her.

“This what’cha think about when yer doin’ it alone?” He whispered, a desperate tinge to his already thick voice.

She nodded fervently and forced her eyes open to meet his for a brief moment. “Y-yeah…”

Then she arched her back as a wave of pleasure washed over her. He pulled out just a bit before slipping back in, eliciting a breathless moan from her parted lips.

“Oh yeah?” He urged. “‘S it as good as ya imagined, Greene?”

She gasped and immediately melted. “Better— _so much_ better.”

“What’d ya think about? This fat cock on yer lips? Inside yer pussy?”

“And yer mouth on my tits while you’re balls deep inside me.”

Holy _fuck_.

It took everything Daryl had left not to explode at that moment. He bit down on his tongue and halted his rhythm for just a second. 

How could anyone else _ever_ match up to this fucking woman?

Then he gave a hearty thrust forward and buried himself within her hot, wet depth. She let out a sound that resembled a whine mixed with a hungry moan. He trembled. He was quickly reaching the precipice of climax, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could put it off. Not when she was making sounds like _that_.

“ _Fuck_ me, Dixon!” She begged. “Make me come—call me _princess_ again!”

Oh, holyyy—

Daryl stuttered his movements, and his breath, and poured out his response through his mouth. Through the way his lips hungrily trailed up from her breast to her collarbone to her neck. Through the way they sucked at the tender skin just below her jaw, and the way he relished the quivers and shakes that ran through her whole body. Her pussy was gushing around his cock and he barely had mind enough to slip out and back in, to elicit a deep moan from her open mouth at the jarring sensation. He kept sucking on the skin of her neck, digging his teeth in ever so gently, humming against her throat.

She went tight around him. She drew in a sharp breath and held it. He quickly pulled his lips away and growled out, “ _Come_ for me, princess.”

That seemed to be all it took. Her hips bucked upward and her back arched. Her eyes slammed shut, and he could feel every muscle in her petite little body tensing up and going taut.

“Oh, _fuck_ —Daryl, I’m coming! _ImcomingImcoming—!_ “

Then she was gushing around his steadily pumping cock. And the only sound she was capable of making was a high-pitched keening.

And well, if that didn’t send _him_ right over the edge with her.

Daryl finally allowed the heat to reach its boiling point, and that bubble burst somewhere at the pit of his stomach, and with one final thrust into the all-consuming slick warmth that lay between Beth’s thighs, he was exploding. The climax ripped through his body and stole his very breath.

“Shit, me too—oh _god_ , Beth!” He grunted and growled and went silent.

He was left panting and gasping, hunching over Beth and her humming vibrator, shivering with the aftershocks of their shared orgasm.

Then she clicked a button and the vibrator went silent. She set it aside and he felt both of her soft, dainty hands grasp onto his hips.

She pulled him forward. Urged him deeper. His cock was spent and sensitive, and a harsh shiver ran through him. He groaned from low in his throat, lifting his head to gaze down into her eyes.

A question escaped his lips, still heady with the lingering traces of climax, “Yer boyfriend ever make ya come like that?”

The corner of her lips tugged up into a wicked half-smile. Her bright blue eyes blazed, and he could feel himself withering before them. 

Christ, he would do _anything_ to make this girl happy. That much was certain.

“Not even close,” she whispered. Then she leaned up and captured his lips in a deep kiss. 

When she pulled away, he blinked in surprise. Even though his dick was still inside her, he felt _below_ her. So to speak. Like he was merely stealing a moment that was never intended for him.

The half-smile was still plastered to her lips. She returned his teasing tone as she asked, “Does yer girlfriend ever let you _fuck_ her like this?”

He huffed out a breathy chuckle. “Not even close.”

She leaned up just the slightest and planted her lips on the edge of his jaw, gently peppering kisses along his beard and down to his adams apple. He shivered and tried to ignore the way his wilting cock twitched inside her. 

Jesus, this girl was _dangerous_.

“Guess we got a lot in common, Dixon,” she breathed out across his skin. Then she giggled softly, and the vibration echoed throughout his entire chest. 

Nah, she was no princess. No prissy little church girl. No do-gooder farm daughter. Not even an innocent college student.

She was a thirsty, dirty, horny little _freak_. She was _dangerous_.

 _Trouble_. That’s what Beth Greene was.

Trouble with a capital fucking T.

Yet Daryl was powerless to resist her. And at the end of the day, wasn’t he a little _thirsty_ , too?

Thirsty for her. Shit.

The Beach Boys were still playing from the living room, echoing out around them. Although they’d drowned out the last few tracks with their own animalistic sounds. Now the music was overpowering. Overwhelming. Background noise to a scene that Daryl was certain he’d never forget.

_“—And then we’d be happy, and then we’d be happy-y-y. Oh, wouldn’t it be nice? You know, it seems the more we talk about it… it only makes it worse to li-i-ive without it… but let’s ta-a-alk about it. But wouldn’t it be nice?”_

Shit, if she was trouble, then he was the one who’d gone looking for trouble in the first place.

He was already risking it all. Already so goddamn—per se— _lost in the sauce_.

If _she_ was thirsty… then, hell. He was downright _parched_.

She was a drink of fresh water in the middle of a desert. She was temptation in the middle of church. She was a fire within a blinding blizzard. She was an island amongst a vast ocean. She was everything he’d been searching for, when he hadn’t even been aware that he was searching for anything at all. 

She was… 

She was _dangerous_. In the _best_ possible way.

**to be continued…**


	2. finsta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out, Beth's got some secrets even Daryl doesn't know about...  
> And no, he doesn't mean all the kinks.

**finsta**

In the darkness of night, once the cabin had fallen silent and Dog was curled up at the end of the bed, Beth and Daryl lay together beneath the blanket. They were both still naked, too worn-out from their last session to slip any clothes back on once they’d finished cleaning up in the bathroom. Her head was resting on his chest, and his arm was wrapped around her, holding her close. 

Her breathing went quiet and steady, and he began to match it with his own, trying to reach that point of sleep that she seemed to have attained. But then he felt her stir against him. He tightened his grasp around her and pulled her closer. She nuzzled her face into the crook of his arm, humming contentedly.

A warmth swelled up inside him, and it had nothing to do with lust.

Weird… but he was too tired to pay it much mind.

Then her soft voice was breaking the silence, barely more than a whisper, “I got church in the mornin’, so I set my alarm for six. D’you mind if I use your shower before I go?”

“‘Course not, help yerself,” he grumbled back. “Y’need a ride back to yer house?”

She nodded against his chest. “If you’d be so kind…”

He smirked in the darkness. “Well, what’s the other option? Have Maggie come out an’ pick you up?”

Beth giggled. “That might be kinda hard to explain. I told her I was stayin’ the night with a friend, but I didn’t say _which_ friend…”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. And that would be a whole new kind of hell to pay if Maggie Greene found out her precious baby sister had spent the night at Daryl Dixon’s house. He was pretty sure she had easy access to pitchforks, and he knew for certain that she was well-trained with firearms. “So I’ll jus’ drop ya off.”

“Okay,” Beth hummed in agreement. He could feel her smiling as she nuzzled her face against his bare chest. “Thanks, Daryl.”

“Don’t mention it,” he grunted. Then he turned his head just slightly—just enough so that his nose was buried in her hair—and took in a deep breath of her. He tried to commit it to memory.

But who was he kidding… he wouldn’t be forgetting about the nights (and mornings and afternoons) spent with her anytime soon. Maybe not ever.

A few minutes later, her body went completely slack beside his, and her breathing steadied. He knew she was fast asleep. And all he could think about was how much he was gonna miss her after she left.

That didn’t seem right. He was pretty certain that you weren’t supposed to _miss_ your fuckbuddy. Or… whatever she was. Friend with benefits. Because they _were_ friends. At least, he considered _her_ a friend by this point. Even if they never fucked again. Regardless, this particular pang of missing someone wasn’t the kind he usually felt for friends. It was a little too deep. 

Christ. It was too late, and he was way too worn-out from all the sex to be thinking about this shit. Too sober to be thinking about it at all.

He lightly kissed the crown of her head and whispered into her hair, “The hell’re you doin’ to me, Greene…”

This girl was a whole new level of fuckin’ dangerous.

* * *

Daryl awoke to the sound of the alarm on Beth’s phone. He barely had enough time to recognize the warmth of her body pressed against his side before she was pulling away and sitting up. He stirred but kept his eyes shut. The alarm went silent as she fumbled with her phone on the nightstand. He heard her unplugging it from the charger and letting out a tired sigh.

Maybe she still thought he was asleep because he’d barely moved and hadn’t opened his eyes, but then he felt her lips planting a soft and lingering kiss on his bare chest, just above the spot where his heart beat steadily. Before he could react, he felt the ends of her long hair tickling his skin, and then the bed shifted and she slipped out from beneath the blanket.

He barely lifted his eyelids to watch her bare backside as she strode across the bedroom and into the bathroom. His cock twitched to life between his legs. 

She shut the bathroom door quietly and he rolled over, groaning inwardly. He was still so tired, but just a _glimpse_ of her had stirred the heat to life within his stomach.

Dog barely lifted his head from where he lay at the end of the bed. Daryl looked down and found big brown eyes staring back at him, almost expectant. _Judging._

“Yeah,” he grumbled to the German Shepherd, whose ears perked up when he realized he was being spoken to. “Think yer gettin’ a little too attached, too. Don’t look’t me like that.”

The toilet flushed from inside the bathroom, and a second later, he heard the bathtub faucet being turned on. Then the shower switched on. He rolled back over and gazed longingly towards the closed door and the light that was leaking out from beneath it. 

In about an hour, he’d be driving her back home. And he had no idea when he’d see her again. _If_ he’d see her again.

Dog raised his head and opened his jaw wide, yawning. Then he shot Daryl another look that said, _Well, now or never, pussy._ And when Daryl still didn’t move, he hopped down off the bed and padded away towards his water bowl and the doggy door.

Jeez. Even his own dog could see how much of a coward he was when it came to Beth.

He lay there for a moment longer, listening to the sound of the running shower, trying to ignore the twinge between his legs at the thought of stepping inside and catching her completely naked and glistening with clean water.

Okay, well. He needed a shower, too. So…

Daryl dragged himself out of bed, still naked. He glanced at where his boxers were lying on the floor beneath Beth’s sundress and contemplated putting them on, just for the sake of not appearing too eager. But hell, what would be the point of that? She already knew how much he wanted her. Maybe she was even _expecting_ him to join her in the shower. Maybe she was hoping for it…?

He pushed himself forward and stopped in front of the bathroom door. He put a tentative hand on the doorknob, hesitating. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he turned the knob and pushed the door open. Just a crack. Enough to peek his head in and see her. 

She wasn’t even in the shower yet. It was running behind her, shower curtain pulled closed, while she stood in front of the large mirror that hung over the sink with her phone in one hand. Her other hand was covering her nipples.

She was posing in the mirror, her phone camera aimed at the reflection from her neck down to her upper thighs. She twisted her body just enough to conceal the area between her legs, simultaneously giving a side view of her perfect little ass. She snapped a couple photos before lowering her phone and glancing back to meet his curious gaze.

“What’re you doin’?” He asked, his voice still rough with sleep. He pushed the door open a little further and set one foot on the cold tile floor. “Thought you’d be in the shower already.”

She blushed and shot him a bashful smirk, turning back towards the mirror and holding her phone in both hands while she tapped away on the screen. “I was just about to get in, but I wanted ta take advantage of yer big mirror. The lighting’s really good in here.”

He smirked, eying her phone with curiosity. “Takin’ nudes for yer boyfriend?” He assumed.

Not that he was jealous or anything.

“Yeah, right.” She laughed like he’d told a joke. “I wouldn’t waste perfectly good nudes on _him_. No, I jus’ thought I was lookin’ kinda hot, an’ I wanted a picture.” She was still tapping away on her phone, though he couldn’t see what she was doing from over her shoulder.

He pushed the door open further and stepped all the way inside, shutting it tightly behind him. The steam from the hot water in the shower was already beginning to fill the small room. He slowly approached her from behind, reaching out and wrapping his arms around her middle.

“Well, yer right,” he growled. “Yer lookin’ hot as _fuck_ , girl.”

He bent down and kissed the side of her neck, keeping a small gap between his bare front and her bare back. He didn’t want his quickly forming erection to disturb her.

She hummed at the contact and paused what she was doing for just a second, tilting her head back against him. When he gazed down at the phone in her hands, he saw that she was in the process of making a new Instagram post… with the provocative photo she’d just taken in his bathroom mirror.

“Postin’ that ta Instagram?” He whispered against the skin of her neck, planting another kiss right below her ear. “Y’tryin’a get me _killed_ , princess? Everybody knows what my bathroom looks like.”

She giggled, but he felt the way she shivered in his arms at the sound of his little nickname for her. “Don’t worry, it’s not my actual account. It’s just my finsta.”

“Yer _what_?” He asked.

She giggled again. “You’ve never heard of a finsta?”

“C’mon, you know I’m old,” he muttered, kissing her neck playfully.

“Oh, please,” she said. “Yer not even _close_ to old.” She resumed typing on her phone, creating a caption that simply said “ _been thinking about getting a tattoo”_ with a few flower and sun emojis. No hashtags and no location tags. Then, as she hit Post, she explained, “A finsta is a ‘fake Insta.’ It’s not linked to any of my other accounts or my real emails, and nobody I know in real life knows that it exists. I just post whatever I want. Like an anonymous diary that I keep for myself.”

“That some random, horny strangers on the internet can look at,” he teased.

She chuckled. “I try not to think about the _horny_ strangers, but… yeah. I s’pose so.”

“You really are _freaky_ ,” he growled.

He hummed against her skin and she let out a little squeal of amusement. But he kept his eyes glued to the phone in her hands, watching as the photo of her bare form in his bathroom mirror went out into the world and made its place in the cyber footprint of humanity.

Just before she exited the app, he caught a glimpse of her “finsta” screenname: _d1rty.b1rd_

Did she know he saw the name? Did she expect him to go looking for it later? Or did she prefer if he stayed out of her “anonymous diary?” Wouldn’t she have made more of an effort to hide it if she didn’t want him to see?

Either way, if she was posting pics like _that_ to the account, he _had_ to see for himself. Even if it meant being a little bit of a creeper.

Later, though.

Right now, he had her at the tips of his fingers. She’d locked her phone and set it aside on the counter. And his hands were drifting down from her hips to the apex of her thighs. Slow. Tantalizing. His lips trailing kisses up and down the side of her neck, stopping to momentarily nibble on her earlobe.

“You wanna save some water and shower together?” She asked, grinning eagerly as their eyes met in the reflection of the mirror.

“Dunno how much water we’ll actually save,” he growled into her soft, warm skin. “But I’m up fer givin’ it a shot.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, he had her bent over beneath the spray of the shower head, his hands grasping her hips while he thrust his throbbing hard cock in and out of her slick heat. Her moans and high-pitched squeals echoed off the bathroom walls, filling his ears and reverberating inside his head. And he struggled not to come too fast, even though he’d just come _twice_ within the last twelve hours. 

Christ, she was like a fucking _drug_. He could go forever with her, and every single time was just as good as the first. No—it was _better_. Every new thing they tried, every new position they attempted. It just kept getting better and better. He couldn’t get _enough_ of this girl.

Another fifteen minutes—and another shared, head-spinning orgasm—and then they were doing a final rinse-off before turning off the water to step out. The bathroom was completely steamed up, and the mirror was coated in a layer of fog. Luckily, he’d thought to have two clean bath towels hanging up on the rack, so they each grabbed one and dried off, still panting and flushed from sex.

They went about their motions in silence for several moments. And although his brother was the very _farthest_ thing from Daryl’s mind at a time like this… he couldn’t help but recall Merle’s words for a very brief second.

As he gazed at Beth, watching her drag the towel up and down her limbs, across her damp breasts, between her thighs. There was one statement that was sticking out in his head for some Godforsaken reason.

_“Andrea might be hot, but she’s a fuckin’ prude. She pro’lly never even lets ya hit it from behind, does she?”_

Nah. She didn’t. She never did _half_ the shit that Beth was willing to do. That Beth was downright _eager_ to do.

Like sending him naughty photos in the dead of night, or asking for videos of him coming. Or sucking him off in the driver’s seat of his truck, or showing up to his house wearing absolutely nothing beneath her dress. Or letting him watch her pleasure herself. Or letting him eat her out on the kitchen counter, or choke her in bed, or bend her over in the shower.

And okay, in all honesty… he shouldn’t be so upset. Not every woman _liked_ the same things. He knew that. And he’d made numerous excuses for himself, and for Andrea, throughout the last two years. But even he had to admit that there was a difference between simply being a prude and being a downright fucking _bitch_. Because if Merle and Frankie’s relationship was anything to go off of, then the fights and the nitpicking and the complete lack of chemistry had to be wrong. Surely, this wasn’t how relationships were _supposed_ to work.

All Andrea ever did was criticize him, make him feel lesser, punish him by withholding affection and insisting that he earn it by jumping through some insane new hoops every damn time. And it was still never good enough. She was still constantly complaining that he _came too soon_ , that he _couldn’t find her spot_ , that he _didn’t know how to properly “make love.”_

Yet with Beth… well, he wasn’t about to try and say it was “making love.” But it was certainly making _something_. Something he could never find within the depths of his girlfriend’s thighs. Something he’d never even known was possible before now. A strange fire that had been sparked to life and could only be fed by the fuel that lay at Beth’s perfect center.

Goddammit. He really fucking _hated_ when his stupid asshole of a brother made valid points.

But even Daryl couldn’t deny that everything was so much _easier_ with Beth.

He would _try_ to deny it, though. He’d try his damnedest.

It wasn’t until he was wrapping his towel around his waist, and Beth was standing in front of the fogged-up mirror, completely naked and dabbing at her damp hair with a towel, that he spoke.

“You really thinkin’ about gettin’ a tattoo?”

She glanced over at him with a smirk. “Yeah. Why?”

He shrugged. “Just wonderin’.”

She huffed out a contemplative breath and said, “Y’think I shouldn’t? My sister says tattoos are _skanky_ , but it kinda just makes me wanna get one even more.” She smiled, a devilish glint in her cornflower blue eyes.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “You couldn’t look skanky if ya tried, girl. Maybe I’m biased, but I think a little ink would only make ya look hotter.”

She grinned.

He lowered his voice and added, “If that’s possible.”

She flushed red and giggled. “Yeah, whatever,” she mumbled sheepishly.

“Nah, but really,” he said. “I got a guy I could hook ya up with. Does good work, reasonably priced.”

“Aw, how thoughtful,” she beamed before turning back to her own foggy reflection and scrubbing the towel through her hair. “I was prob’ly gonna wait till I go back to school, though. One of my roommates has a cousin who does tattoos for cheap—”

“Oh, hell no,” he interrupted, scoffing.

Her head whipped to the side and she looked at him with raised eyebrows, her smile questioning. “What?!”

“Lemme guess,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “This _cousin_ only charges like forty bucks, an’ they tattoo people inside their kitchen.”

Beth chuckled. “Well, it’s an attic, but—”

“C’mon, girl,” Daryl interrupted. “Don’t do that. Yer gonna get some godawful, shaky-ass line work that you’ll have ta cover up in five years. An’ that’s _best_ _case_ scenario. More likely, you’ll get an infection.”

She blushed and turned away. “What—you really think so?”

“I _know_ so,” he insisted. “Y’see all the shitty tattoos I got? I got more’an enough experience with ‘cheap’ tattoo artists.”

She giggled. “I don’t think your tattoos are _shitty_ ,” she retorted, growing a bit defensive. “I _like_ ‘em, actually.”

Now it was his turn to blush, though he didn’t want to. He grunted in disagreement and muttered, “Gimme a break. My shit’s faded. Even the good ones’re goin’ to hell.”

She rolled her eyes and brushed off his denial. “Whatever. They still look good… on _you_.” She bit her lip and flashed him a provocative gaze through the mirror before giggling lighty and adding, “Part’a the reason I decided I want one after all. I’ve been thinkin’ about it since high school, but then I saw yours an’ it just kinda… _feels right_.”

He swallowed thickly and tightened his grip around the towel hanging from his waist. He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. She spoke so freely. So confident and daring and fearless. 

Shit. She made him feel like a fucking _coward_. Why couldn’t he be as open and honest as her? Sure, he somewhat managed to breach that barrier whenever he was balls deep inside her; when his face was buried in her neck or in her hair or in her breasts. But he couldn’t seem to find that same courage when it _really_ mattered. Like when they were inches apart on the bench seat inside his truck, or when their knees were touching while they sat on his couch, or while they conversed in nothing but their Birthday Suits in front of the fogged-up mirror in his bathroom.

Then she shrugged and went back to patting her hair dry. “Maybe I’ll go to a shop then. I was only avoiding it ‘cause I’m not sure I can afford shop _prices_.”

An idea sparked in his head and he asked, “Ain’t yer birthday comin’ up in a couple weeks?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “The day before I leave. Why?”

His heart dropped a little at that reminder. But he didn’t let it show. “So I’ll take ya to my guy in Atlanta. He’ll hook ya up with a good price. And he’s _licensed_. It’ll be like a birthday gift or whatever.”

She laughed. “Alright, Dixon. It’s a date. Y’think you can set somethin’ up in less than two weeks?”

He blinked and tried to comprehend what she’d just said. A _date_? Did that mean they were making plans to see each other again? Before she left? Could he _get_ so lucky?

“Yeah,” he answered without hesitation. “I’ll get a hold of ‘im. He’ll make time for me.” Then he added, “Might as well get sum’n new fer myself while I’m there.” 

Her eyebrows rose and she looked at him with surprise. “Yer gonna get tattooed _with_ me?”

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Sure. Why not.”

A wicked grin formed on her lips and she flicked her eyes up and down his body. Then she batted her eyelashes and teased, “Y’wanna get _secret_ _matching_ _tattoos_?” She quickly laughed, as though it were just a joke.

But he was taking it seriously. He knew the tips of his ears were turning pink, and he didn’t much care.

“Maybe,” he mumbled. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He finally pushed himself to step forward, and he closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his toweled lower half against her bare ass and back. Once he was touching her, he couldn’t resist. That unfamiliar burst of confidence shoved its way to the forefront and took control.

He leaned down and kissed a trail from her shoulder up to her neck. She hummed softly and leaned back into his embrace. He growled into her ear, “Not like I need a tattoo to remember you anyhow.”

He felt her tremble against him.

She reached an arm back and grasped his bicep, her other arm falling to her side with the towel still clutched loosely in her hand. “Keep talkin’ like that an’ you’re gonna make me late for church.”

He pulled his lips away from her skin and lifted his head just enough to meet her gaze in the mirror. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it?” His hands began to drift down, over her sharp hip bones and towards the tender skin below her belly. 

She giggled. “No, but it’d still be bad. I’ve only got so many excuses.” Then she rolled her eyes and placed a finger on her neck, pointing to a particular spot and drawing his attention to it.

He saw it in the mirror first, but as soon as he realized what it was, he tore his eyes away and looked down to see it right before him: a dark purple hickey on the side of her neck. Very obvious indentions left from teeth. 

Shit. That was from _his_ mouth. He’d let himself get a little out of control in the heat of the moment…

But she didn’t seem upset. She just laughed when she saw the expression on his face and pushed him back gently.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Swear I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” she assured, cutting his apology short. “I mean, I kinda deserve it since I did the same thing to you last weekend.” She twisted her head around just long enough to give him a meaningful look, full of desire and… whatever the hell else. He couldn’t interpret it. She was a whole new mystery that he was certain he’d never fully figure out. “This is why I always carry concealer in my bag.”

“ _Huh_ ,” he huffed out. “Good thinkin’.”

A very small and very shameful part of him was kinda wishing, though… that maybe someone _would_ see that mark on her neck. Just like Dwight had seen the mark she’d left on _his_ neck.

He didn’t know why, though. What would it matter? Their little fling was a secret. No matter how much they marked one another up, no one could actually know that it was them. No one was supposed to know that they were meeting. Spending time together. Fucking each other’s brains out.

She was just his dirty little secret. And he was hers.

That’s what made it so hot, though. So irresistible for the both of them. Because if other people knew… well, all the thrill of the risk would be gone.

And that’s all this was for her. A thrill. A risk. A quiet sin between a perfect church girl and a no-good redneck. A long thought-out fantasy that had finally come to fruition. A “bit of rough,” or just a bit of _him_. It was all the same.

Just a fling. It was just a forbidden summer fling.

Right…?

**to be continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only just learned about the existence of "finstas" like 2 or 3 years ago thanks to... yet again... one of my Gen Z coworkers. Back in my day, we had MySpace, where we publicly ranked our friends in order of how much we liked them. And if we wanted to keep secrets, we had a LiveJournal that people from our real lives didn't know about. But hey, whatever. I'm not judging.


	3. follow me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl really, really shouldn't be thinking about Beth this much.  
> But he's been doing a lotta things he shouldn't be doing lately. Why stop now?

**follow me**

The clock on Daryl’s dashboard read 7:33 when he stopped at the end of the driveway to the Greene Farm. She thanked him for the thousandth time and leaned across the seat for a quick goodbye kiss—just fleeting enough that it couldn’t be seen by any potentially prying eyes. Although it didn’t prevent him from worrying about the possibility of Maggie or Hershel spotting their little show of affection from afar.

Nonetheless, his dick jumped inside his pants and he found himself longing for more contact once she pulled away and moved towards the door. 

“So—I’ll see ya soon,” she said, her fingers wrapped around the doorhandle while her other hand held her dark green _Tulane University_ bag. Her eyes flickered, almost hopeful. “Maybe next weekend?”

Daryl cleared his throat and glanced away. He wanted to say, _maybe sooner?_ But what came out was, “Maybe. I’ono about _next_ weekend. But before ya leave.”

Fuck. He was so bad at lying. So bad at being _discreet_.

She picked up on it immediately. “Oh—you got plans next weekend?” 

_With your girlfriend?_ She didn’t say that part, but he could hear it all the same.

He gave a curt nod.

She wavered briefly before smiling and shrugging it off. “That’s fine. Whenever. Just text me.”

Daryl nodded and, on a last-minute whim, reached his hand out to squeeze her arm. Gently. Reassuringly.

The feel of her skin beneath his palm sent jolts of electricity through his whole body. But he tried to appear unaffected. Tried to match how cool, calm, and collected she always seemed to be.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low and thick with unspoken need. “I’ll text ya. Soon.”

Her eyes flicked downwards before meeting his again and giving him a long appraisal. When she was satisfied, she turned and opened the door, taking her bag with her as she hopped out of the truck. 

At the last possible second, he added, “Or you can text me first. If ya want.” 

She paused with her hand on the door, about to slam it shut. A blush filled her cheeks and she rolled her eyes with mock annoyance.

“Maybe I will,” she said. There was a coy little smirk on her face.

Then she was slamming the door shut and turning away, beginning her trek up the long driveway to the farmhouse. Daryl could do nothing more than stare after her through the passenger side window. (He hated to see her leave, but he sure did _love_ watchin’ her go.) And second-guess every single thing he’d said or done.

Jesus _fuck_ , he was an idiot. If he hadn’t completely fucked this up, it would be some kind of miracle. He was sure of it. He’d made a goddamn _fool_ of himself. 

Hadn’t he?

She wasn’t _really_ gonna go with him to get her first tattoo. She’d blow him off, surely. She’d have something more important come up, or maybe she’d just forget. She’d get too caught up in all those friends and all that family to give him a second thought.

Or… was it actually possible that Beth Greene would make time for him once more before she left town?

Maybe she was starting to think about him as often as he thought about her?

Nah. Now he was just _wishing_.

* * *

Daryl didn’t even think to check his phone until he was already sat down in the chair on the front porch with a cup of coffee in his hand, watching Dog chase birds around the yard. He hadn’t touched it since he and Beth had finally laid down and gone to sleep several hours ago. And that was only to plug it into the charger.

He was still thinking about her finsta. About that photo in his bathroom mirror. 

With an unlit cigarette between his lips, he set his coffee down and went back into the bedroom to retrieve his phone. He quickly returned to the porch, plopping himself down in the chair and lighting up his smoke with one hand while the other unlocked the phone screen.

As soon as he saw his list of notifications, his heart dropped.

Fuck.

 _Andrea: (4) Missed Calls_ _  
_ _Andrea: (2) Missed FaceTime Calls_ _  
_ _Text Message: Andrea_

How had he completely forgotten to call her? Shit shit _fuck_. This was bad. She was probably stewing in anger right this very second. And she hadn’t left any voicemails, so he knew he had one hell of a tongue-lashing coming his way.

He opened her text message and found that it had arrived shortly after midnight—while he’d been all wrapped up with Beth in bed.

**_Guess you forgot about me. Hope you’re having fun._ **

Christ. 

There was no way she _knew_ , right?

No. No, that was impossible. There was no way she’d have any clue. She probably assumed he was out at the bar with his brother or something. But that didn’t make it much better. She’d be just as pissed to find out he’d blown her off for Merle as she would be to find out he had a younger woman naked in his bed.

Daryl took a long drag off his cigarette, followed by a swig of hot coffee, and tried to muster up all his courage. _And_ patience. Then he took in a deep breath and pressed Call on Andrea’s name, exhaling and putting the phone up to his ear.

It rang once. Twice. On the third ring, she picked up. Her voice was clipped and tense. 

“Wow, so nice of you to make time for me,” she greeted bitterly.

He sighed. “Hey, babe. Don’t be like that, I’m sorry—”

“You’re _sorry_?” She interrupted. “You completely _forgot_ about me then. Is this yer way of getting back at me because I couldn’t come down for the weekend? You _could_ come up here once in a while, y’know.”

Daryl grit his teeth and forced himself to take calming breaths. It was no use to fight back. He would just have to grovel for her forgiveness. Like he always did. 

“No, it ain’t like that. I swear. I really am sorry. I fell asleep. I had an exhausting week at work, an’ I ain’t been sleepin’ all that great. I jus’ kinda passed out. Didn’t hear my phone or nothin’.”

She sighed into the phone and he could practically hear her eyes rolling. “Must’ve been _awfully_ tired.”

He hesitated, unsure of how to defend himself without making her angrier. So he just softened his voice and tried to sound as genuinely apologetic as possible. “I’m sorry. I wanted ta talk to you… How can I make it up to ya?”

“I don’t _know_ , Daryl,” she snapped back. “Okay? I don’t know. I’m not sure you even can.”

“What? It was one phone call, why’re you actin’ like this?”

“It’s not _just_ the phone call! How d’you not get that? Are you really that dense?”

He bit his tongue.

She sighed again, and he heard her moving around on the other end. “Listen, I’m really _not_ in the mood to talk about this right now. I’m already swamped with work, I don’t need _your_ shit on top of it. Just—just gimme some space for a couple days. I need to think about which direction our relationship is going.”

“The hell’s _that_ s’posed ta mean?” He asked. “How did I fuck up so bad fer you to be sayin’ shit like that? Last I checked, a relationship’s s’posed ta be fifty-fifty, and I’m pretty damn sure I been givin’ about seventy, while _you_ —”

“See?!” She interrupted. “This is _exactly_ what I mean! I can’t even _talk_ to you about this!” She huffed angrily. “Just spend some time with yourself for once, Daryl. Think about what you _really_ want outta this, ‘cause if you’re so convinced you’re giving more than you’re taking, then I dunno how we’ll ever find a middle ground.”

He bit back a snarky retort and merely scoffed. “Yeah. Alright. Fine.”

“I need to get in the shower and get to the office,” she concluded. “I’ll call you in a couple days… if you’re not too _busy_ for me. Love you.”

Before he could respond, she hung up. 

He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared down at his Home screen, perplexed. His blood was boiling and he had a horrible ache in his stomach.

Jesus. That woman knew exactly how to get under his skin in the worst possible way.

But… as shameful as it was, he felt the tiniest bit hopeful. Maybe she’d make up enough reasons inside her head to justify dumping him. And then he wouldn’t have to be the bad guy. Or at least, not _that_ bad of a guy. Maybe she’d cut him loose, and he could go on swapping naughty photos with Beth and sexting to his heart’s content without any guilt or remorse. 

Shit. He shouldn’t be thinking like that. Beth was temporary. She was gonna move on soon; she was gonna go back to her college boyfriend who couldn’t fuck her right, and then she’d forget all about that redneck bit of rough she’d gotten over the summer.

Andrea was supposed to be permanent. She’d already stuck around for two years. And if _Merle_ was settling down with a woman, then Daryl really had no excuse. It was time to man up and do what normal people do: _commit_. But who else besides Andrea would ever put up with him and his shit?

Jesus Christ. He was in _way_ over his head.

* * *

When another cigarette did nothing to lower Daryl’s blood pressure, he decided to go on a short jog with Dog. He tried to keep his mind focused on his relationship with Andrea, asking himself what he could do to make it better, to make it work.

How could he bring the same spark he felt with Beth into his already existing romantic relationship? How could he feel that chemistry with his actual girlfriend? At what point did being around her, being _with_ her, become easy? Like it _could_ be?

But no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept drifting back to Beth. How he laughed so freely with her. How he felt both nervous as hell and more comfortable than ever before in his life when she was around. How he felt so bold, even when he was bare naked before her. How the sound of his name dripping off her kiss-swollen lips made him want to go absolutely feral. 

_Fuck_.

And then—of _course_ , because Merle’s voice already intruded on Daryl’s thoughts at the most inopportune times—he recalled his brother’s taunting words.

 _“ …but I’ll be damned if she don’t make me feel more fuckin’_ **_alive_ ** _than any other piece’a ass I ever got.”_

Was that what really mattered? How _alive_ Daryl felt? Or was Merle just talking out of his ass like he always did?

_“I ain’t ever seen ya look at Andrea like that… Yer downright fuckin’ enraptured with this college bitch.”_

He had him there. Daryl felt the tendrils of infatuation wrapping themselves around his entire body, tightening a little more with every moment he spent near her, with every message they exchanged and every orgasm they shared. But he was powerless to resist.

It was a lot more fun to just go with it, anyway.

Beth was the pebble that had been tossed into Daryl’s tiny pond, causing a ripple effect that he couldn’t seem to escape; turning into waves that crashed against the rocks of his mundane life. He was pretty sure he’d never be the same again after this girl was done with him.

How the hell was he supposed to come back from this?

How was he ever supposed to settle for what he had with Andrea now that he’d gotten a taste of _trouble_?

* * *

A few hours later, Daryl was lounging on the couch with Dog curled up at his feet, watching TV. He was still desperately trying to rid himself of all thoughts pertaining to Beth. _Or_ Andrea. He just didn’t wanna think about it all right now.

But that didn’t keep his mind on track. He struggled to follow along with his shows, and even though he’d set his phone far out of his own reach, he kept glancing at it every couple minutes. Partially hoping it would light up with a new notification. Desperately wishing it would be Beth.

Was she stuck reminiscing on their night together like he was? Replaying it over and over, fighting back a sudden wave of arousal at the memories?

No. Probably not. She was going about her day. Attending church with her family, doing chores on the farm, having lunch and meeting up with friends. 

A wicked little part of him wondered if she was the slightest bit sore between her legs; if she’d managed to cover up that mark he’d left on her neck. Hell, can’t blame a guy for tryin’ to leave some reminders behind. She’d certainly left one of her own last week. The hickey on his neck had only just faded away, though if you looked real close, you could still spot the remnants of purple-tinted skin. 

He tried to pull his head out of the clouds, but it was no use. The more he allowed himself to mentally replay his night— _and_ morning—with Beth, the more blood rushed down to his dick. He was incapable of thinking about her and _not_ getting hard.

That was a problem. Though not the _worst_ problem he could have…

When the episode he was watching ended, he heaved a sigh and got up from the couch, grabbing his phone. Dog trailed lazily behind him as he stepped out onto the front porch and took his usual seat. The German Shepherd walked over to the edge of the porch and sprawled out across the wood, letting the high afternoon sun pour across his face while he closed his eyes and snoozed.

Daryl lit up a cigarette and pulled out his phone, unlocking it and finding no new notifications. His heart began beating a little faster, but he attributed it to the nicotine and opened up Snapchat.

The very first name at the top of his New Stories list was _Beth._

He immediately tapped on the little circle over her name, watching with attentive eyes as her twenty-second video filled his screen. The timestamp in the corner said that it had been posted 24 minutes ago. 

Early afternoon sun poured in through her bedroom windows, and she was in a bikini, holding her phone above her head and dancing around, a gleeful grin on her face while she sang along to a song loudly playing in the background. She’d added a caption that consisted of nothing more than a string of fish emojis. Amy was with her, and she was wearing a bikini, too. But Daryl barely noticed her.

All he could see was Beth. Even though Amy was singing along beside her, all he could hear was Beth’s melodic voice.

_“—you can’t turn around and sa-ay goodbye! All you know is when I’m with you, I make you free-e-e! And swim through your veins, like a fish in the sea!”_

The two blondes danced around, giggling breathlessly the whole time, but Beth was staring straight at the camera and grinning. And she continued to sing along.

_“I’m singin’: follow me-e-e, everything is a-a-alright, I’ll be the one to tuck you in at night. And if you wanna le-eave, I can guarantee-e-e, you won’t find nobody else like me!”_

The video ended abruptly and another Story started playing. Daryl quickly swiped out of it and went back to Beth’s Story. He replayed it again. And again. And every time, he was staring at Beth, watching the way her perfect pink lips wrapped around every lyric. Listening intently to the tone of her voice.

It was insane to think she was putting on a show with the hopes that he’d be in the audience. Right?

Girls don’t do that. Do they? Not girls like Beth. Surely. She always said exactly what she thought. She always… _showed_ it.

He exited out of Snapchat and went straight to Instagram. Just as he’d hoped, there was a new Story from _greene.with.envy_ waiting at the top of his Feed. He tapped on the little circular icon and watched, expecting another video. But it was just a picture. The timestamp in the corner said 2 hours ago, so it must’ve been from right after she got out of church and before she met up with Amy and changed into a bikini. It was nothing more than a selfie from the chest up, and only half of her face. She’d applied some silly filter that added cartoon dog ears and a nose to her face. And she was wearing a black top that left her shoulders bare, though the neckline conveniently wrapped up around the bottom of her neck. She’d found a way to hide the hickey for church.

And _goddamn_ , she looked beautiful.

There was no caption or anything, and it timed out rather quickly, sending Daryl onto Carl’s latest Story. He swiped back to his Feed halfway through a video of Judith sitting in Michonne’s lap and singing the alphabet. 

Feeling unsatisfied, he tapped through the app until he was on Beth’s profile. She hadn’t made any new posts since the poem from her notebook, unfortunately. But he immediately noticed something had changed. Something was different from the last time he’d visited her Instagram page… her bio. 

It was no longer a string of emojis that he didn’t understand. She’d deleted those and replaced it with words. Lyrics, to be exact.

_I love to move, I love to groove, I love the lovin’ things_

At the end, she’d added four simple emojis: a music note, a fish, a kissing lipstick print, and a yellow heart.

He didn’t even have to wonder what it meant, because the heat was stirring within his stomach and he was remembering her pretty little mouth singing along to _Any Way You Want It_ , and her bare skin beneath his fingertips; her moans echoing off his kitchen walls; his hands yanking her sundress up and his tongue exploring every inch of her body while _Journey’s Greatest Hits_ played in the background.

He began to doubt that she’d done it on purpose, but that doubt didn’t last long. It was too much of a coincidence. He was almost certain that she’d changed her bio within the last few hours, and there was definitely a reason for those particular lyrics.

And those particular emojis. Maybe…?

That might be reaching too far. But the lyrics—those, he was sure of. 

The only thing he couldn’t figure out was _why_. 

Why did she insist on teasing him like this? She knew exactly what she was doing. He had a feeling she knew him even better than he’d like her to. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but she did.

She’d fucking figured him out. Just like that. She’d wriggled her way in and invaded his entire life. Invaded his mind. She knew he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She _knew_ he couldn’t resist her. 

Did she know he was fucking _infatuated_ with her, too?

He sure hoped not. Although… she could see that he was viewing all of her Stories. Across all social media platforms. So, yeah. She probably had a pretty good idea by now. 

Shit. He was so _fucked_.

* * *

Merle called while Daryl was cooking supper, and he stayed on the phone with his brother for close to an hour. He vented about Andrea a bit, only to be met with more mockery and taunting remarks about how she was “digging her own grave,” and how Daryl should “keep diggin’ _himself_ into younger girls’ pussies till ya find the one that feels right.”

Daryl rolled his eyes and chose to keep the rest of his thoughts to himself.

The remainder of the conversation was mostly just Merle bullshitting and killing time while he waited for Frankie to get home. And sure enough, as soon as he saw her car pulling into the driveway, he was telling Daryl goodbye and reminding him to _“keep followin’ that dick, boy—mine ain’t led me astray yet!”_

Daryl pulled the phone away with a disgusted look and pressed End on the screen. His brother’s obnoxious cackling was cut off, and he was left alone in the silence of his cabin once again. 

He finished up his menial Sunday tasks, like making sure his work clothes were in the dryer and emptying all the trash cans. When it came to washing his bedsheets, he hesitated. Ultimately, he decided to put it off for another day or two. Beth’s scent still lingered on the pillowcases and between the blankets.

He wasn’t ready to wash it away just yet.

* * *

He tried to keep his mind off of her for the remainder of the evening. He made a point of keeping his phone out of arm’s reach and focusing all his attention on the show he was watching and the book he was reading. Occupied himself with taking Dog on a long trek through the woods and chain-smoking until he wasn’t sure whether the rise in blood pressure was caused by an onslaught of memories or by an onslaught of nicotine and tar. Tried to think more about Andrea and their relationship troubles. Tried _not_ to compare their compatibility to that of Merle and Frankie’s… or that of Daryl and Beth’s. 

He tried desperately to push all thoughts of the youngest Greene out of his head.

But in the darkness of night, while he was lying in bed and listening to the steady hum of his fan, Daryl could think of nothing else _except_ Beth.

He was also partially thinking about how he had to get up early and go back to work. About how he’d be seeing Dwight again, and how he was pretty sure he could expect another text or call from Merle. About how he _should_ be spending this time contemplating his relationship with Andrea, and asking himself how he could do better. How he could prove himself and make up for his shortcomings. 

Yet he found himself too focused on the memories. Too caught up in the lingering words that Beth had spoken; the quiet little sighs she’d made against his skin, and her carefree laughter that had echoed off the cabin walls. 

He was thinking about that photo she’d taken in his bathroom mirror. He was wondering about that secret Instagram account she’d allowed him to catch a glimpse of. 

Before Daryl could think better and stop himself, he was reaching over and snatching up his phone, unplugging it from the charger and grasping it before him. The glow of the screen cast a hazy blue glow over his face and half the bedroom. He blinked against the light, tapping his thumb on the screen and quickly navigating his way to the Search section of Instagram.

What was the name he’d glanced on her screen? Bird something? Dirty something? There was a period and a number, but—

Oh, wait. He remembered now. He typed it into the Search bar almost feverishly.

_d1rty.b1rd_

A string of results came up, but the one he was looking for was at the top. He tapped on it and watched as the profile filled his screen.

The profile picture, no more than a tiny circular photo at the top left of the page, was a blurry image that looked like it might be the side of one bare breast and the shadowy figure of her face. But the only details that were clear were her porcelain skin and sun-bleached blonde hair.

Her name and bio were simple, with very few emojis.

 **d1rty(song)b1rd** **  
**_an angel with an amber halo | blonde hair and the devil’s pitchfork | don’t @ me | don’t follow me, i’m lost too_

He scrolled down to see her posts. She’d anonymously publicized 58 photos, and she already had 279 followers. Though she was following exactly 0. He skimmed through her list of followers only to find a bunch of randoms and meme accounts.

Fucking horny internet strangers.

The very first post on the account was from over a year ago, which told him she’d only just entered the “finsta” game recently, while she was at college. All her photos were rather vague. Her posts consisted of poetry and partial nudes. The captions were brief, no hashtags or location tags, no hints of her face or her real identity. But plenty of identifying factors.

At least… they were identifying for _him_. Only because he _knew_ it was her. And because he’d know that body anywhere. He’d had his hands and mouth all over it, after all. He’d tried his damnedest to memorize every curve, every bone, every freckle and beauty mark and scar.

She’d posted at least a dozen provocative photos. Pictures taken in mirrors and beds and poolside chairs; angles and captions that revealed just how much _excitement_ she got out of posting such risky material. Lots of emojis. Lots of lyrics. Lots of _Beth_.

Beth, Beth, Beth.

Of course, the second most recent photo was from this morning. He saw the blurry background of his bathroom behind her naked form, her body turned just enough to hide her most private parts.

But it was the most recent post on her finsta that really caught his attention. 

The timestamp said she’d published it just a few hours ago, and the caption read: _“get outta my head; yer makin’ me wanna sin (some more),”_ followed by a string of emojis—two beer glasses clinking together, a crescent moon, an ice cream cone, a fish, a dog, and a yellow heart. The photo was a screenshot of the Notes app from her phone.

Another poem.

Though this time, it was typed out in her Notes rather than written down in her notebook. He couldn’t see her curly, feminine handwriting, but he could practically hear her voice in the words.

 _and the way you look at me_ _  
_ _yeah I’m trouble with a capital T_ _  
_ _but that’s the way you like it_ _  
_ _that’s the way you like me_ _  
_ _all spread out in your bed_ _  
_ _with my soul bared wide to see_ _  
_ _boy, you can’t look away this time_ _  
_ _can’t pretend you didn’t hear it_ _  
_ _didn’t feel it_ _  
_ _might be freaky_ _  
_ _but freaky’s the way you lean_ _  
_ _guess all those years spent kneeling behind pews_ _  
_ _and singing hymns_ _  
_ _didn’t do much for me_ _  
_ _‘cause i can’t resist you_ _  
_ _(or the sins)_ _  
_ _and your heart calls to me_ _  
_ _through bedsheets_ _  
_ _through shower heads and secret texts_ _  
_ _and the summer sun that turns your eyes to ocean depths_ _  
_ _maybe we were meant to be_ _  
_ _do you ever think?_ _  
_ _maybe i’m just lucky_ _  
_ _maybe it’s a chance opportunity_   
_but when you show up in my dreams_ _  
you’re never sad to see me_

Daryl’s mouth suddenly went dry. His pulse thrummed and he read back over the words a second, third, fourth time. His heart was close to beating out of his chest.

On a near-panicky impulse, he exited out of Instagram and opened up his text messages. He went to Beth’s conversation— _Trouble_ —and began typing out a message.

_So that finsta you got —_

But then his head began to clear. He stopped. He erased the letters, thumbs hovering over the screen, his heart still thumping loud and fast. 

No. It was just a game. Just a fling. She had a boyfriend. If he tried to make it anything more than it was, she’d probably get bored and drop him.

And he still wanted _one more_ time with her before she went back to college and forgot about him.

Outta sight, outta mind. Right? Maybe that would be the case for him, too. Maybe if he didn’t see her over the rest of the week or during the weekend, he could bring his head back down to Earth.

He closed his texts and locked his phone before decisively setting it on the nightstand. He plugged the charger in and rolled back over in bed.

He took in a deep breath of the lingering scent she’d left on his pillowcase and kept repeating inside his head: _Just a fling. Just her high school fantasy come to life. Ain’t nothin’ more than that. You’re way outta your league, old man._

Yet he couldn’t stop thinking about the poems, the emojis, the lyrics. Couldn’t stop asking himself… what the hell did it all _mean_?

**to be continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song in this chapter was "Follow Me" by Uncle Kracker. Which gives me heavy heavy heavy Beth vibes for this universe lol  
> The lyrics in Beth's finsta bio come from "Interstate 8" by Modest Mouse.  
> And the poem was... yeah. All me. I went full nerd and wrote a poem from Beth's perspective while I was half-drunk and decided it would be a good post on her finsta. I've been writing poetry since I was like 6, so why not. Though I don't claim to be any good at it. Sorry!


	4. wyd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outta sight, outta mind.  
> Admittedly, the existence of social media kinda makes that whole concept obsolete.

**wyd**

Daryl awoke on Monday morning with a raging boner and a deep desire to roll over and find a warm body beside him. Not just any warm body, but _Beth’s_. The body he’d been fleetingly dreaming of right before his alarm so rudely interrupted him.

He rolled out of bed with a groan and dragged himself to the bathroom. Then he grabbed his phone and went outside with Dog to smoke his first cigarette of the day. The sun had barely crested the horizon, but the heat and humidity were already settling in the air, a layer of dew quickly evaporating over the grass. August was approaching fast, and with it, the most stifling heat of the summer.

He sat in the rickety old chair, smoking his cig and checking his notifications. Nothing new, of course. He quickly moved on to checking social media. But there were no updates on Beth’s pages.

He wondered what she’d done last night. Clearly she went swimming with Amy in the afternoon, but what about the rest of the day?

And what about that hickey? There’s no way she was able to keep it covered in her bikini, and if she went swimming, whatever makeup she might’ve applied would’ve washed away. And Amy knew that Beth’s boyfriend was in Nebraska. So what if she started asking questions? Was Beth capable of lying straight to her friend’s face for the sake of Daryl’s (dying) relationship? For the sake of her own reputation?

Maybe he really was risking it all for her.

It was too early to be thinking about that shit. He _trusted_ her.

As weird as that was to think, it was true. He believed Beth when she said she didn’t want any drama, and when she promised she wouldn’t purposely cause problems for him.

Besides, he already knew she was good at lying on the spot. He was sure she’d come up with something.

* * *

While he stood naked in the bathroom with the shower running behind him, waiting for the water to warm up, Daryl scrolled through Instagram on his phone. His morning wood wasn’t going away, and his head was all foggy with thoughts of Beth. He couldn’t possibly be expected to have a productive work day in this state of mind.

As soon as he typed _d1_ into the Search bar, her finsta popped up at the top of his recent results. He tapped on it and found all the same posts as the night before. He scrolled down slowly, lingering on the images that showed bare skin and tantalizing positions. He lingered just a little longer on that photo of her in his bathroom mirror, reminiscing on what had happened after she posted it. Then, just for good measure, he closed out of Instagram and opened his Photos to revisit their 58-second sex tape.

Christ, he’d almost forgotten how goddamn _good_ it was.

When he was finally under the spray of the showerhead and jerking himself off to the mental image of Beth riding his cock… swallowing his come… moaning his name… It didn’t take long to finish. 

As the orgasm washed over him, a groan slipped from his parted lips, completely reflexive. “ _Be-eth…_ ”

He stroked out the last few aftershocks of his climax with a shaky sigh. Her coy smirk faded from the backs of his eyelids.

And _finally_ , he was able to think clearly again.

* * *

Apparently, half of Senoia had put off getting basic vehicle maintenance and tire changes until after the weekend was over, because the shop was chaotically busy all morning and most of the afternoon. Daryl barely had a chance to think about anything besides all the work that was piling up. He had to reschedule a few things for the next day and the day after, and because everyone else was so busy, he also had to deal with a couple of disgruntled customers.

Needless to say, he didn’t even think to check his phone until he was sitting down to eat lunch. It was the first time Daryl had been able to sit down and take a breath all day. He hadn’t even stepped out for a smoke since he clocked in. He and Dwight took their breaks together today, sharing the same table as they quietly ate their meals.

There was only one new text message waiting for him. It was from Rick.

**_Did you still wanna hang out this weekend? I was gonna start calling around for babysitters today._ **

Daryl texted back: _Sounds good. Andrea will be down if you and Michonne wanna double date or something_

Well, he was _pretty_ sure Andrea would be down. She was taking a long weekend, and he was feeling fairly confident that she would find it in her heart to forgive him and come down to Senoia for three days. Maybe she’d be a little less bitchy if he took her out somewhere with other people. She would be less willing to fight if they were around friends, he knew that much. 

Key word: _less_ willing. But not entirely unwilling.

Rick must’ve been on lunch as well, because he texted back within two minutes.

**_Even better! Wagon Wheel? Saturday night?_ **

_Idk how welcome I am at the wheel these days thanks to merle_

**_Oh ya I forgot LOL the Horseshoe then? If all else fails_ **

_Don’t see why not. What time y’all wanna meet up?_

**_Let me set up a babysitter first and I’ll let you know._ **

_Cool_

Daryl lifted his head and looked across the table at Dwight, who was also texting away on his phone while he shoveled microwaved pasta into his mouth.

“What’re you an’ Sherry doin’ this weekend?” He asked, locking his phone and setting it aside.

Dwight raised his eyes up to meet Daryl’s and shrugged. “This coming weekend?”

Daryl nodded.

“Think she was talkin’ ‘bout headin’ down to Savannah to spend a weekend with her parents. It’s their anniversary next week—or her dad’s birthday… I can’t remember. It’s somethin’, though.” 

“Oh, alright. Well, have fun.”

Dwight smirked. “Yeah. _Tons_.” Then he set his phone down and asked, “Why? What’re you gettin’ up to this weekend?”

Daryl shrugged. “Not sure yet. Andrea’s s’posed ta come down on Friday—got an extra day off. Rick’s wantin’ ta meet up at the bar.”

“Oh,” Dwight said. But his tone had noticeably changed. He looked back down at his pasta and stabbed another noodle with his fork. “Well, as fun as that sounds, think I’d pass anyhow.”

Daryl deflated. Dwight wasn’t saying it, but Daryl knew exactly what his tone of voice was referring to.

The last time they’d all gone out together—barely two weeks ago—Andrea had caused a scene and stormed out of the bar in a huff. Right there in front of his brother and his friends. (And he said _his_ friends because even though she’d known them just as long as he had, she barely ever referred to them as _her_ friends. She seemed far less interested in their lives these days.)

All he could do was sigh and lower his head, his appetite suddenly diminished. He balled up the remnants of his sandwich within its plastic baggie and chucked it across the room into the trash can. 

“Yeah, I get it,” he muttered.

“Sorry, man, I just—“

“Nah, ‘salright. Really.”

Dwight didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to.

Daryl knew what his friend meant. And how could he take offense when he secretly agreed?

* * *

While he smoked his post-meal cigarette alone out back, he scrolled through social media. He was searching for a hit of that drug he called Beth, unable to resist his desperate desire to know what she was doing.

He wanted to text her, but he’d told her to text him first. And he didn’t wanna seem creepy.

There was a short Story on Snapchat of her feeding the chickens, followed by a photo of the sunrise from her spot on the farm. The only glimpse he actually got of her was her feet in cowboy boots as she tread over the grass and scattered feed for the birds. 

On Instagram, he found a new Story from her, but it was just a picture of her and her dad in front of a couple horses. She was wearing cutoff jean shorts, a baggy white band T-shirt, and those same cowboy boots. Hershel had an arm around her shoulder, squeezing her close to his side and smiling wide from beneath his thick white beard. She’d added a flashy text caption that read: _Daddy’s Girl_ with half a dozen heart and smiley face emojis.

Daryl felt a shiver run through him at the sight of how innocent and pure Beth looked standing beside her daddy, hugging him tight and grinning like a little girl. For the briefest second, he imagined how enraged Hershel would be if he found out what his angelic baby girl had been doing for the last week and a half.

But then his eyes drifted to her bare legs, long and sun-kissed, and he thought about how they’d shook while they were wrapped around him; how her thighs had trembled beneath his touch.

The Story timed out and sent him onto the next person’s Story, which he quickly swiped out of. On a whim, he checked her finsta again. But there was nothing new, except a few more Likes on her latest poem.

He tapped on it and hesitated, debating on double-tapping it. Should he let her know that he’d seen it? Or would his Liking the photo ruin the ruse? Could other people see what photos he Liked? And if they could, would it take them to her secret page? Would they put two-and-two together and realize that was Beth, and that was Daryl’s bathroom, and that Daryl was Liking Beth’s finsta posts?

He didn’t know enough about this social media shit. Better not risk it.

He exited Instagram before he could do something stupid and took a long drag off his cigarette. 

So Beth was busy with family and farm life, from the looks of it. He’d probably best not bother her. Just… leave her be. For now, at least. If she wanted to talk to him, she would text him. Or DM him. Or message him on Snapchat. Or whatever.

Outta sight, outta mind. He hoped.

* * *

Daryl reckoned he oughta mow the grass before it got too out of control. So as soon as he got home, he stripped the bed and threw the bedding into the washer, took Dog for a short walk, and hopped onto the riding lawnmower he kept in the shed.

It took a few hours, half a pack of smokes, and about six beers, but once he was finished mowing the grass around the cabin all the way to the treeline that surrounded his property, he was dripping with sweat. He put the lawnmower away and peeled off his damp clothes to take a relaxing shower. Then he made the bed with clean sheets, completely free of Beth’s scent.

Between all of that and his long day at work, he was more than exhausted. After supper and an episode of his favorite show, he called it an early night and collapsed into bed. 

But when he was asleep, he was dreaming. More heavily than he’d ever dreamt before.

* * *

He was lying flat on his back on the floor of his living room, and there was a warm weight atop him. He was shirtless, a cold draft blowing across his bare skin. Then he felt the familiar tickle of hair on his chest. It trailed up and up and up, towards his neck.

And then Beth was in front of him. She was straddling him, leaning down and grinning mischievously, cornflower blue eyes heavy-lidded with lust. Her lips were inches from his. He could feel her hot breath ghosting across his chin.

“You’re _mine_ now,” she whispered. “You’re not supposed to _tell_ people you’re thirsty—don’t you know that?”

But for some reason, he was distracted. He felt a strong vibration in his arm; heard the buzz it made atop the wood floor. He turned his head and saw that his phone was vibrating beside him. He grabbed it and checked the screen.

He had a new DM from Maggie Greene on Instagram. It read: _Are you fucking my little sister??? I’m going to literally MURDER YOU and feed your body to my dad’s pigs!!!_

Below that was a new text from Andrea that read: _You fucking CHEATED on me?? I knew you were a worthless piece of shit. Have fun dying alone._

And below that was a new text from Rick that said: _I don’t think I can be friends with somebody who fucks around with impressionable college girls. Sorry Daryl._

Finally, a new text from Carol that said: _And here I thought you were better than this. I can’t believe you coerced that young woman into slumming it with you. I’m not sure I can ever look at you the same again._

His heart dropped and he turned back to find Beth still hovering over him. Still straddling him. Her mouth was still inches away from his.

And she was still grinning licentiously. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” she whispered. She started peppering light kisses from his jawline up to his cheek. “Don’t you wanna see me again? Tomorrow?”

He couldn’t resist. He groaned out, “Yeah. Yeah—I do.”

She giggled against his skin, her lips barely brushing across his. “And the next day? And the next day? And the next day? And the next day…”

The sound of his alarm jolted him awake.

And once again, he was raging hard. 

Fucking _shit_. What was it gonna take to get this girl out of his head?

* * *

He didn’t bother to actually check his phone until after he’d taken a piss and refilled Dog’s water bowl. So when he picked it up and unlocked it, he was surprised to find a Snapchat notification waiting for him.

_From Beth_

That damn dream was still lingering in his head and he shivered. Before he tapped to open it, he checked the timestamp. 12:48 am.

 _Motherfucker_. He’d been asleep, dreaming of her. And she’d reached out.

He opened their Chat to find a single message.

_Beth: wyd_

Her Online icon was nowhere to be found. As expected. He hurriedly typed out a message and sent it.

_Daryl: Sorry I fell asleep early_

But there was no response. No sudden appearance of her Online icon. He was too late.

Or too early. Whatever. It was barely past 6 in the morning, and she was probably sleeping in. She was on summer vacation, after all. So he could only assume she was sleeping in as late as her life on the farm would allow. 

He was five hours too late and two hours too early. Dammit.

He decided that sending a second message would be too much. So he closed the Snapchat app and locked his phone.

He had a busy day of work ahead. Best he clear his head and get ready. Maybe take some time to focus on other matters. Like Andrea and their weekend plans.

Beth was living her own life. He needed to get used to it now, before she inevitably left and stopped messaging him altogether. In exactly two weeks, she’d be shipping off back to Louisiana without a second thought. And he’d have nothing more than Instagram accounts and screenshots to remember their time together.

Shit. He needed to get his fucking priorities in order.

* * *

Tuesday wound up being just as busy as Monday for the tire shop. Daryl didn’t get a chance to slip out for a smoke until shortly after eleven in the morning. He normally would’ve waited until his lunch break, but he’d pushed all the irritating assholes’ appointments back to today, so he was overly tense thanks to the numerous customer complaints and bad attitudes.

As he leaned against the outside of the shop, he pulled out his phone and found a new Snapchat notification on the screen.

_From Beth_

He tapped on it and went to their Chat, where their previous two messages had already gone away.

_Beth: No worries :)_

That was it. From 8:16 am. When he’d been lying underneath a car and examining its busted muffler. 

Of course, her Online icon wasn’t there. He’d missed his opportunity. She’d lost interest.

He hesitated during the final couple of puffs from his cigarette. Debated on typing out a response like, _how’s your day?_ Or something.

But no matter how many different ways he tried to word it, it felt too desperate. Too needy. Too pushy. Too _creepy_. 

Even if he was still kinda thinking about that dream he’d had. About that poem she’d posted on her finsta. About the way she’d moaned his name—called him _baby_ —with her legs spread wide.

Besides… he was trying to put her out of his head.

Wasn’t he?

* * *

During his lunch break, his phone buzzed. He nearly jumped out of his skin with anticipation.

But it was just a text from Rick.

**_Still trying to find a sitter. All my regulars are sick of the potty training_ **

He’d added a rolling eyes emoji.

Daryl frowned and texted back while chewing his food.

_Umm good luck with that_

**_Lol Michonne is excited about getting together again and seeing Andrea so I’m trying to make it happen_ **

_Oh cool. I’m sure you will. It’s summer, lots of options for babysitters_

**_You’d think so but no luck yet. Haven’t exhausted all my options tho. I’ll keep you updated_ **

_K_

Well, that was enough to get him thinking about other things. At least for the time being.

He was a little relieved. Maybe Michonne’s presence would even Andrea out a bit. Maybe she would be more mindful of making a scene and criticizing him and arguing if one of the friends she actually _liked_ was present.

Well, he reckoned, only time would tell.

Although he was getting a little sick and fucking tired of walking on eggshells…

* * *

The rest of the afternoon passed by in a blur. Daryl finally caught up on all his appointments and even accepted a couple of last-minute repairs. In between customers, he bullshitted with Dwight and ignored his growing nicotine craving.

Finally, he caught a break in the rush and slipped out back for a smoke. 

Halfway through the cigarette, his head abuzz and his limbs still fidgety from overexertion, he pulled out his phone and checked for notifications. He partially expected another text from Rick, or maybe even a message from Andrea. He thought he’d felt a vibration in pocket about twenty minutes ago, but he wasn’t sure.

There was only one notification. Snapchat.

_From Beth_

And it was from twenty minutes ago. 4:38 pm. He immediately tapped on it and watched as an image filled his screen.

The timer was set for ten seconds, and the Snap was all _Beth_. It was a photo of the reflection in her floor-length mirror—the same mirror from her tantalizing underwear selfie. Except this time, she wasn’t on her knees. She was standing up, bare naked, one thigh turned inward just enough to cover her nether region, while the hand that wasn’t holding her phone was casually covering her nipples. Though her fingers were parted, and he could see the pink shape of her areolas between them. The curve of her ass was prominent, practically highlighted by the sunshine pouring in from the windows around her. He wasn’t even sure if the gleam of her eyes was from a filter she’d applied, or if it was natural. 

There was a caption at the bottom: _Hope you’re having a good day_ with a kissy face emoji.

Holy fuck.

How did she do it?

How did she just _know_ that he’d needed something to turn his day around? And this was _definitely_ enough to turn his day _completely_ around.

When the Snap timed out, he tapped to replay it and stared even harder than the first time. This time, he ignored the caption. All he could focus on was _Beth_. His dick twitched to life in his pants.

Right before the Snap timed out for the second and final time, he took a screenshot. Didn’t even care that she’d know. It wasn’t like she’d sent it with the idea that he _wouldn’t_ wanna save it.

He typed into the Chat bar: _Jfc girl you sure know how to make a bad day a hell of a lot better_

He added a tongue emoji for good measure.

But as soon as he’d tapped Send, he was interrupted.

“Daryl!” Dwight called from the open back door of the shop. “Yer next customer’s here!”

Daryl closed Snapchat without even checking whether Beth’s Online icon showed up or not, then locked his phone and shoved it back into his pocket. He tossed out his burnt-down cigarette and headed for the door.

“Yeah yeah, I’m comin’.”

* * *

Daryl didn’t clock out until shortly after 6:30. He bid Dwight goodnight and went out to his truck, where he took a moment to light a cigarette and pull out his phone.

He’d hoped for a reply from Beth on Snapchat, but all he found was a new text from Merle.

_Call me_

Ugh. He hated getting those texts. What did Merle have to say that couldn’t be conveyed over text message? Daryl was exhausted. He didn’t feel like talking to his dumbass brother tonight.

He exited out of his text messages and opened Snapchat. Sure enough, the last Chat message he’d sent to Beth was Opened. But there was no response.

He went to his Feed and found nothing new from her. So he exited Snapchat and opened Instagram.

At the very top of his Feed, he saw that _greene.with.envy_ had posted a new Story. He tapped on it to find that it was from two hours before she’d sent him that photo on Snapchat.

It was just a selfie of herself from the chest up. She was sitting in the passenger seat of a car, a Sonic cup in her hand and her lips wrapped around the bright red straw. The caption read: _Sonic trips with big sis just like old times_ with a string of girly emojis.

So she’d been at Sonic that afternoon—which was just a couple blocks down from the tire shop. Maybe she’d driven past at some point and seen how busy he was. Maybe she’d even caught a glimpse of him from beneath the open garage door…? And he hadn’t even known it. 

Then she’d sent that little half-nude Snap once she’d gotten back home.

And now she would know that he’d gone back and viewed her Story.

Christ.

It really _was_ a game, wasn’t it?

* * *

Even while Daryl sat on his couch with a belly full of dinner and a good show on TV, his hand wouldn’t stop twitching towards his phone. Every five minutes, he was fighting the urge to check for a message from Beth, or peruse through her social media. 

Everything was reminding him of her. He couldn’t watch TV without being plagued by thoughts of her bare naked atop his kitchen counter, or in his bed, or in the shower. Constantly reminded of how she’d begged him to come while her legs were spread wide. He couldn’t focus on anything because his mind kept drifting away from what was important. Like he was daydreaming about being inside of her with 80s music playing in the background.

Except it wasn’t really _daydreaming_ if it went on literally all day. And all night.

He finally decided that idle hands were the devil’s workshop and shut off the TV. He left his phone sitting on the coffee table and headed outside. He grabbed his toolbox from the shed and a small package of electrical parts that he’d bought weeks ago. And he went out to his truck with the intention of fixing that piece of shit busted radio. 

It took him a good couple of hours—and quite a bit of cursing—but he eventually managed to fix the damn thing. It wouldn’t play tapes or CDs, but it would play radio stations, and that was enough for him. At least that was one task he could mark off his list of “I’ll do it later”s.

Keeping his hands busy had proved to be beneficial. He didn’t drift off into any stupid daydreams. And he really only thought about Beth like, _maybe_ a dozen times. 

Give or take.

Wasn’t his fault that he automatically associated her with music, after all. He felt like Pavlov’s Dogs at this point.

He was pretty damn sure he could never listen to Journey the same again. Or The Beach Boys. Or a number of other songs. 

Shit. This was starting to get a little out of hand, huh?

* * *

Later that night, while Daryl was lounging on the couch and debating heading off to bed, he decided to call his brother. Despite his better instincts.

Might as well see what the asshole wanted.

Merle picked up on the fourth ring, and he was coughing. Probably right in the middle of smoking a joint with Frankie.

“Hey, shitlips!” He greeted.

Daryl rolled his eyes and leaned back into the couch, holding the phone to his ear. But not too close. Merle had a tendency of talking way too loud. “What’s up?”

Merle coughed again, then he cleared his throat and let out a little chuckle. “Well, I’s wonderin’ what yer doin’ tomorrow.”

“Workin’.”

“No shit. I mean _after_ that! I’mma come over. I’ll bring some beer.”

Daryl sighed. He’d already been looking forward to coming home after work tomorrow and doing absolutely nothing. But he knew that Merle was pretty insistent, and if he planned on stopping by to have a few beers with his brother after work, then that was damn well what he was gonna do. Whether Daryl actually wanted him there or not.

“Alright, I guess,” he huffed into the phone. “Not like I can stop ya.”

Merle barked out a laugh. “Damn straight! The ol’ lady’s workin’ late tomorrow, but I get off at six. I’ll swing by after that.”

“Whatever,” Daryl muttered.

“Six pack or twelve pack?”

“ _Twenty_ pack.”

Merle laughed.

“We ain’t so different after all, baby brother!”

**to be continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daryl's dream was inspired by the dream sequence in _50 First Dates_. Because I fucking love that movie, and Idk why, but that little bit just felt like it belonged here.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who voted for _risk it all_ and _lost in the sauce_ in the [2020 Moonshine Awards](https://ultimatebethylficlist.com/moonshine-awards/)!  
> I was very, very proud to add those wins to the summaries. I hope y'all continue to enjoy this silly little smut series :)


	5. send memes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl would prefer that Beth send nudes, but shit. He ain't mad about just getting to talk to her.

**send memes**

Daryl was lying under the covers in bed, his room completely dark and Dog curled up at his feet. He held his phone over his chest and made one last peruse through social media before going to sleep. It was nearly eleven, and Wednesdays were usually pretty steady at the shop, so he needed to be well rested.

But more than that, he needed to know if Beth had posted anything new in the last couple hours.

There was nothing from her on Snapchat besides the same Opened Chat he’d sent this afternoon. But when he opened Instagram, her profile picture was at the very top, inside a purple-and-pink circle in the row for new Stories. He immediately tapped on it and watched as it filled his phone screen.

It was a photo of her cat, Barney, sprawled out on his back at the foot of her bed. He was sleeping soundly right beside Beth’s blanketed feet. The caption read: _gonna miss this damn barn cat_ with a cat face and a red heart emoji.

That was it, though. From “1h ago.” Her Story timed out and moved onto the next person’s. 

Still fidgety with anxious hope, Daryl checked her profile. Her bio was still the same as earlier—the Journey lyrics. Nothing else new, though. So he opened the Search bar and typed in _d_ , and the first result popped up from his recent searches: _d1rty.b1rd_. 

He went to her finsta, but there weren’t any new posts. No changes. Except for a few more Likes on her scandalous mirror selfie and her little poem. 

Well, damn. Time to put the phone down and push her outta his head for the night. So he could get some sleep.

And hopefully, he wouldn’t dream.

* * *

Barely ten minutes had passed since Daryl had put his phone on the charger, rolled over, and settled in with his eyes shut tight. He knew, because it usually took him about fifteen minutes to fall asleep. Twenty or thirty if he was fighting back thoughts of Beth.

His phone buzzed atop the nightstand. His eyes shot open at the familiar sound and he saw the bluish glow that the lit-up screen was casting around the room. 

Okay, well. There was no way he’d be able to fall asleep without checking what it was first. Probably just a text from Merle, or maybe Rick. But… ya never know.

He rolled over and grabbed his phone from the nightstand, squinting against the bright light as his vision adjusted. And it adjusted rather quickly as soon as he saw the name on his screen.

_Trouble_

A new text message.

Oh, sweet Jesus. His heart was racing before he could even unlock his phone. (Just like goddamn Pavlov’s Dogs. Anytime Beth rang that bell, Daryl started drooling.)

It was a photo. But not of her. A meme. It was black text on a white background, and it read:

 _[first date]_ _  
_ _her: what do u do_ _  
_ _me: [remembering girls like bad boys] i sell drugs_ _  
_ _her: are u serious_ _  
_ _me: [remembering girls like sensitive guys] to kids in need_

She’d added a message at the end.

**_Merle and his gf lol_ **

Daryl snorted, smiling to himself. Okay, it was pretty funny. But damn, why was she sending memes and not nudes?

Whatever. He’d take what he could get.

Besides, he liked sharing laughs with her. It was one of his favorite things about talking to her. She was easy to banter with. Their senses of humor just kinda… _clicked_. It was relieving. Freeing.

He quickly texted back.

_Lol probably_

He hit Send and waited a few seconds, anticipating the sight of those three animated dots that would signal she was typing.

When they didn’t appear right away, he sent another message.

_Shouldn’t you be sleeping, Greene?_

Suddenly, the little gray bubble appeared. Three animated dots to signal she was typing. He didn’t even have time to hold his breath before her response popped up.

**_In your bed with you? Yeah_ **

She added a kissy face emoji.

 _Christ_. He could literally feel himself blushing in the darkness of his bedroom. Thank God she was on the other side of the phone and couldn’t see him. It was downright shameful how red this girl could make him.

He hesitated with a response at first. Then he decided to just go with his first instinct and typed out a message, and another one, and hit Send before he could stop himself.

 _Shit I wish_ _  
_ _Don’t think we’d be getting much sleep tho_

 **_Jeez, Dixon_ ** **_  
_** **_You sure know how to make a girl blush ;)_ **

Before he could form a reply, she sent another message.

**_Shouldn’t YOU be sleeping? You have to be up earlier than me lol_ **

_Was trying_

**_Oh sorry_ ** **_  
_** **_I saw you just viewed my story so I thought you were still up_ **

So she _did_ pay attention to that shit.

He knew it! Fuck!

 _All good_ _  
_ _I just laid down_

He began to type out, _but I couldn’t stop thinking bout you so —_

But he quickly stopped himself, erasing the message as soon as he saw the Typing dots appear.

**_Am I keeping you up? :)_ **

_A little. But I’ll allow it_

**_Lol that’s what I figured ;P_ ** **_  
_** **_So how was your day?_ **

_Busy. Got better when I saw your snap tho_

**_I was hoping that would be the case ;)_ ** **_  
_** **_Sorry I didn’t reply, I got busy with family and talking to Amy_ **

_Nbd I didn’t think nothin of it_

Yes, he did. But he wasn’t gonna tell her that.

Play it cool. Play it cool.

_How was your day?_

**_Pretty good._ ** **_  
_** **_Just hung out with my dad and sister. Then Amy called and said she’s planning a road trip to Savannah to meet up with a couple of our friends who moved down there._ ** **_  
_** **_So I guess I got wrangled into a road trip sometime in the next couple days lol_ **

_Sounds fun_ _  
_ _Always nice to get outta Senoia for a day or two_

 **_Lol yeah true_ ** **_  
_** **_Idk tho she’s not the best driver_ **

She added a crying laughing emoji and Daryl smirked to himself, imagining her tinkling laughter inside his cabin.

_Lmao so maybe you should drive_

**_Maybe haha_ **

A few seconds passed, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard as he racked his brain for what to say. Then the three little dots appeared, and he decided to wait and see what she was going to say first.

**_So did you get a hold of your tattoo guy?_ **

Wait—she was serious about that? Shit, he’d practically forgotten. And when he’d remembered, he’d convinced himself that she was merely entertaining his offer for the sake of being polite. He didn’t think she actually intended on following through.

He just… didn’t think she would genuinely want to make the effort to see him again before she left.

 _Not yet_ _  
_ _You really want me to ?_

 **_Umm duh_ ** **_  
_** **_??_ ** **_  
_** **_Lol_ **

_Idk_ _  
_ _Just wasn’t sure if you really wanted to_

 **_Of course I do :P_ ** **_  
_** **_Do you think I don’t mean the things I say or something?_ **

_Not like that_ _  
_ _Didn’t know if you’d have time_ _  
_ _Or if maybe you were just being nice_

 **_Oh gosh…_ ** **_  
_** **_I’m never “just being nice.”_ ** **_  
_** **_And I wouldn’t lie to you. Or blow you off._ ** **_  
_** **_I don’t have any reason to. :)_ **

_What’s that mean?_

**_Idk_ ** **_  
_** **_Just that I can be myself with you_ ** **_  
_** **_It’s nice_ **

_I was thinkin the same_ _  
_ _It is nice_

She sent a string of smiley emojis that were surrounded by tiny hearts.

Before he could stop himself, he slipped up.

_Idk what I’m gonna do with myself after you leave_

Fuck. Fuck fuck _shit_. Shouldn’t have sent that. Shouldn’t have allowed his fingers to so much as type it out. 

But there it was. Sitting in their text conversation. Already _Read_. And then the three little dots appeared. Daryl held his breath.

He exhaled slowly as he read her response.

 **_I’ll only be a text away ;)_ ** **_  
_** **_Or Snapchat_ ** **_  
_** **_Or… FaceTime…_ ** **_  
_** **_There’s Skype too_ **

She added an emoji of a pair of eyes looking (very suggestively) sideways. And a kissy face emoji.

Christ. The _effect_ this girl had on him. With nothing more than some suggestive emoji placement!

 _Oh so you got it all planned out huh?_ _  
_ _Gonna be a cock tease from across the country?_

 **_LMAO_ ** **_  
_** **_First of all, not across the country. Only a couple states over. We’ve discussed this!!_ ** **_  
_** **_And second of all, cock tease ??_ ** **_  
_** **_You wound me, Dixon_ **

_Wound you?? lmao_ _  
_ _Relax, Jane Austen_ _  
_ _I was just sayin_

 **_Lmfao_ ** **_  
_** **_Just saying what ??_ **

_Not like I can come see you while you’re at school_ _  
_ _Can’t imagine how you’d explain that one to the bf_

 **_What makes you think I won’t be back soon? Lol_ ** **_  
_** **_I get breaks from school, ya know._ ** **_  
_** **_Thanksgiving break. Winter break. Spring break…_ **

_Oh I see_ _  
_ _But you’ll just be a cock tease for all the weeks in between_

 **_Nobody’s stopping you from driving an itty bitty 450 miles. Ya know, just to spend a weekend or two with me :P_ ** **_  
_** **_I’m sure I could find some gas money to help pay for the trip_ ** **_  
_** **_Also… I’m a pretty good liar. I could keep the bf away for a few days._ **

At this point, his heart was nearly beating out of his chest. His thumbs flew across the keyboard on their own will.

 _Damn girl_ _  
_ _You serious_ _  
_ _??_

Admittedly, 450 miles wasn’t all that much. He’d driven longer than that many times before. And for much less reward.

But could this be an actual possibility? Or was he fucking dreaming again? Maybe he’d fallen asleep and he would wake up to realize this entire text exchange had been fabricated by his own unconscious imagination.

**_There you go again_ **

She sent a rolling eyes emoji.

 **_Not believing me._ ** **_  
_** **_Why would I joke about this lol_ **

_Idk_ _  
_ _Almost sounds too good to be true_

 **_Might be_ ** **_  
_** **_If you can’t make up a believable excuse to escape every now and then_ ** **_  
_** **_Ya know, in case your gf got suspicious :P_ **

Daryl’s cock was already half-hard beneath the blanket. He squirmed absent-mindedly as he texted back.

 _I could make it work if you really wanted_ _  
_ _But I gotta tell ya_ _  
_ _Don’t like bein strung along like this_ _  
_ _You’re killing me, princess._

A little cartoon heart inside a bubble appeared at the corner of his last message, and he was confused for a second. Then he realized that it meant she’d “love” reacted his message. 

She sure did _love_ when he called her princess.

More blood rushed down to his cock and it twitched, getting just a little bit harder. Not enough to ache. Yet.

 **_Strung along??_ ** **_  
_** **_Lol I’m not sure if I should be offended or not_ **

_Didn’t mean it in a bad way_ _  
_ _Just can’t stop thinkin bout you_

Daryl’s breath hitched in his chest and he stared at the screen in shock. Had he really just typed that and sent it? Jesus Christ, he was such an idiot. He was so—

**_Ditto :)_ **

Wait… _what_? Really?

 **_But I hope I’m not stringing you along…?_ ** **_  
_** **_That seems bad._ **

Okay. Time to attempt a quick save. He didn’t wanna give her the wrong idea.

 _Nah not at all_ _  
_ _Don’t worry bout it_

He paused and waited for the appearance of the three little typing dots. But they didn’t show up quickly enough to put him at ease, so he sent another text.

_Nice IG bio btw_

He waited.

Shit shit shit. Should he have said that? Maybe he should’ve pretended he’d never noticed. Maybe he should’ve waited for her to respond first.

Then the gray bubble of dots appeared.

 **_Oh thanks_ ** **_  
_** **_So you were creeping on my profile?_ **

Aw, fuck. She’d called him out. He was right. He shouldn’t have said anything.

Then:

 **_Jk lol_ ** **_  
_** **_;)_ **

Oh.

He texted back feverishly.

 _Not creeping hah_ _  
_ _But I like the change_

 **_Lol me too :)_ ** **_  
_** **_I thought it fit so, ya know._ ** **_  
_** **_Plus I love the classics_ **

She added a kissy face emoji and he felt his dick growing harder.

_So I’ve learned_

He wasn’t sure _exactly_ what it meant yet. But he wasn’t gonna text that.

A rush of dopamine and adrenaline flooded his brain, and on a very sudden impulse, he began to type out, _Saw that finsta you got too_

But then the gray bubble of dots appeared and he realized she was typing, too. So he quickly erased his message and waited for hers to pop up.

The dots disappeared. She’d stopped typing.

He hesitated. Should he begin again? Should he actually ask it? Or should he say something else?

Then she was typing again. Okay. He’d wait. He’d rethink his entire approach. Why the hell was he getting so risky anyway? It would only scare her off.

Keep it casual. Keep it cool. Just a fling. Just friends with benefits, at best.

**_We sure have learned a lot about each other over the last week, huh? ;)_ **

_Week and a half_ _  
_ _But yeah_ _  
_ _To say the least…_

 **_Lmao_ ** **_  
_** **_Good to know you’re keeping track_ **

She sent another kissy face emoji and _goddamnit_ , some stupid little emojis on a phone screen were _not_ supposed to have this kind of effect on him.

But he couldn’t stop it. He was powerless to Beth Greene’s will. To her immeasurable power through Snapchat and text and Instagram stories.

How did she do it? How did she _know_?

_Does that make me creepy ?_

**_Lol not in the slightest_ ** **_  
_** **_Don’t worry, I like your creepiness ;)_ **

_Well that doesn’t make me feel much better_ _  
_ _Lol_

 **_Lol stfu_ ** **_  
_** **_You think you’re funny don’t you, Dixon :P_ **

_Wasn’t tryna be_ _  
_ _But if it makes you laugh, then yeah_

 **_Cute :)_ ** **_  
_** **_What are you wearing?_ **

She sent the side-eyes emoji again.

Daryl’s thumbs froze over the keyboard and he shivered with anticipation. His half-hard cock jumped beneath the blanket.

_Umm_

**_LOL_ ** **_  
_** **_“Umm” ?_ ** **_  
_** **_Does that mean…_ ** **_  
_** **_Nothing?_ ** **_  
_** **_;)_ **

Goddamn. This girl was insatiable.

 _Well_ _  
_ _You already know how I sleep_

 **_Lmao good point_ ** **_  
_** **_And it is pretty hot out tonight…_ **

She sent the side-eyes emoji, as well as a flame emoji and a squirting water emoji.

She’d given him an opening. May as well take it.

_Wbu_

**_Yeah I’m pretty hot too_ **

_Already knew that, smartass_ _  
_ _Mean what you wearing_

 **_Oh ;)_ ** **_  
_** **_Wouldn’t you like to know…_ **

_Umm yeah that’s why I asked_ _  
_ _See?_ _  
_ _Cock tease._

 **_Lmao_ ** **_  
_** **_Okay I don’t think you can justifiably call me that anymore since I have most definitely done more than just tease your cock._ **

_Idk I feel pretty justified considering I’m getting hard from a gd text_

**_Omg_ **

She sent three crying laughing emojis.

He blushed. Maybe he shouldn’t have admitted that… 

But then:

 **_Prove it_ ** **_  
_** **_:)_ **

Another rush of dopamine flooded his system and he felt himself getting harder.

Goddammit. He hadn’t even wanted to jack off tonight. Not until she’d started texting him.

 _Prove that I’m hard??_ _  
_ _Why would I lie about that…_

 **_Lmao_ ** **_  
_** **_It’s not that I think you’re lying._ ** **_  
_** **_Just_ ** **_  
_** **_Research purposes._ **

_Right._ _  
_ _Well maybe I’ll turn the tables on ya_

 **_Lol what??_ ** **_  
_** **_Are you trying to be a cock tease rn?_ ** **_  
_** **_Or… wait._ ** **_  
_** **_Would it be a pussy tease??_ **

_Cunt tease?_ _  
_ _Idk_ _  
_ _Whatever you wanna call it. That’s me now_

She was typing for a few seconds longer than usual. Then her next message popped up, but it wasn’t a text.

She sent a GIF from a scene of Michael Scott looking defiant in _The Office_ , and the quote at the bottom said: “ _Well, well, well… how the turntables.”_

Daryl snorted, rolling his eyes. But he was smirking to himself as he texted back.

_Lol_

**_So what? You’re saying I don’t get to see anything tonight?_ ** **_  
_** **_:(_ **

_Definitely didn’t say that_ _  
_ _Maybe I just wanna see you first_

 **_I suppose that could be arranged._ ** **_  
_** **_I mean_ ** **_  
_** **_I don’t wanna be accused of being a cock tease again ;)_ **

His thumbs hesitated over the keyboard, waiting to see if she would be typing again. When the three dots didn’t appear, he began to type, _I would never —_

But then a notification appeared at the top of his screen: Snapchat.

_From Beth_

He immediately deleted everything he’d just typed and tapped on the notification bar. Their Chat on Snapchat filled his screen, and at the top was a pink square.

A photo. Oh fuck.

His heart skipped and he tapped on the pink square. A photo filled his screen for 4 glorious seconds—barely long enough to comprehend what he was seeing, let alone appreciate it. Regardless, he made his best effort.

The Flash from her phone gleamed off her exposed skin. The camera was angled downwards and her blanket was pushed off to the side, and he could just barely see her chin and neck. She was wearing a skin-tight pink camisole and a pair of lacy black panties. A half-inch of midriff was visible from where her camisole was riding up on her flat tummy, and her legs were spread ever-so-slightly, though he could only see the tantalizing top half of her thighs. Her nipples were hard, prominent beneath the thin pink cotton. He could just make out the familiar shape of her lips through her panties.

The Snap abruptly timed out. Without hesitation, Daryl tapped Replay. And he stared intently for another 4 seconds. He was so focused on imagining exactly what she looked like in her bed right now—and the rapidly growing erection between his legs—that he didn’t even think to take a screenshot.

And then the Snap was gone forever. Damn.

Before he could even touch the screen, he saw that she was _Typing…_ So he waited.

 _Beth: Well…?_ _  
_ _Beth: Show you mine, you show me yours?_

_Daryl: Ain’t nothin you haven’t seen before_

_Beth: That’s not the point lol_ _  
_ _Beth: Don’t be a cunt tease, Dixon. ;P_

_Daryl: You sure are bossy, Greene_

_Beth: I believe it’s called “leadership material”_ _  
_ _Beth: I also believe you secretly like it… ;)_

 _Daryl: Got me there_ _  
_ _Daryl: Altho not really a secret now, is it_

 _Beth: It’s okay, I won’t tell anybody ;)_ _  
_ _Beth: Now show me that dick, boyyy_

_Daryl: Lmao ok that’s a little too bossy_

_Beth: T E A S E_

_Daryl: Ok ok jeez_ _  
_ _Daryl: Why am I even harder now?_

 _Beth: Lmao_ _  
_ _Beth: Ummmm_

She added a suggestive side-eyes emoji. 

Before he could type out a reply, a new pink square popped up. He eagerly opened it.

Another photo from the same angle. She’d set the timer for 5 seconds instead of 4. And her camisole was gone. Thighs still parted, black panties still clinging to the curves of her vulva. 

He inhaled sharply and his dick jumped. Now he was rock hard. He stared at the photo on his phone screen, admiring the tiny mounds of her breasts and the little beauty mark right between them. The expanse of bare skin leading from chest to tummy to hip bones. The way her nipples peaked, light pink and _begging_ to have his lips wrapped around them. 

Jesus Christ. It was like seeing her for the first time, but _every_ time. How? Why?

He couldn’t resist the urge to reach one hand down and wrap it around the shaft of his throbbing erection. He gave it a stroke and let out a stuttered breath, hurriedly tapping Replay, soaking in the topless image of Beth while simultaneously picturing how she might’ve sat up and stripped off her shirt to take a photo for him.

 _Just_ for him.

When it timed out and he returned to the Chat screen, he kept one hand loosely wrapped around his dick while the other grasped his phone. He typed with one thumb, swallowing down a groan that was rising in his throat.

 _Daryl: That’s some damn good incentive_ _  
_ _Daryl: Jfc girl_

 _Beth: I thought it might be ;)_ _  
_ _Beth: Are you touching yourself?_

_Daryl: Yeah_

_Beth: Gimme gimme gimme_ _  
_ _Beth: Pleeeeease_

She followed up with an emoji of a smiley face wearing a halo. 

_Daryl: You gonna touch yourself too_ _  
_ _Daryl: And let me see_ _  
_ _Daryl: ?_

 _Beth: That was the plan ;)_ _  
_ _Beth: Tbh I’m already pretty wet…_

_Daryl: Oh really?_

He couldn’t focus on typing anything more because his other hand was stroking his hard cock just the right way, and a low groan escaped his parted lips. _Fuck._

 _Beth: Really really_ _  
_ _Beth: So make me wetter, Dixon._

Well, shit. Couldn’t say no to that.

Couldn’t say no to _her_.

He opened the Snapchat camera and angled it down towards his bottom half, shoving aside the blanket for the time being. He kept the other hand wrapped around his shaft, moving it towards the bottom to allow most of his engorged length into frame. Then he hit the Capture button and the Flash lit up across his dick, thighs, and legs for a split-second. He glanced at the photo and noticed that his cockhead was glistening with precome. He also noticed how god-awful he looked, and wondered to himself why Beth would _ever_ want a photo of such a sight.

But hell, if she didn’t see all kinds of good in him that he’d been unaware of. No use in questioning it.

He set the timer for 6 seconds and pressed Send before he could second-guess himself.

Barely two seconds later, the pink square was Opened. Ten seconds passed. Then it switched to Replayed.

Really? Maybe he should’ve expected it, but it didn’t fail to surprise him. Even now. 

_Beth: I can see why you made me earn it_

She sent a string of emojis that consisted of winky faces and heart-eyes. And squirting water.

_Daryl: Your turn, princess_

He stroked his cock, running his thumb over the precome seeping from the tip and gritting his teeth at the sensation. The heat was beginning to build at the pit of his stomach.

 _Beth: Well I’m already touching myself a little._ _  
_ _Beth: But…_

He waited. Then a new pink square appeared. He tapped on it.

Her photo filled his screen for 7 magnificent seconds. She’d stripped off her panties and angled her phone camera down between her legs. He could see the white bedsheets beneath her bare ass, and the way her thighs were spread. But mostly, he was staring at the center of the photo: her pussy, glistening wet and so fucking pink. She had two fingers pressed against her clit, but he could still tell it was swollen. He could barely make out the slit of her entrance—fuck, she looked like she was _more_ than ready for his dick.

Goddamnit. Why couldn’t she be in his bed right now?!

The Snap timed out, but his thumb was already hovering over the screen, prepared to tap Replay. He stared at it for another 7 seconds, but made sure to stroke his achingly hard cock a little more diligently. A shiver ran through him and he felt himself approaching the edge already.

Christ. All he needed to come was 7 fucking seconds of looking at—and thinking about—Beth. That was it. 

That _had_ to be some kind of new record.

He fought it back, though. Felt better when he let it build up for a little while anyhow.

_Daryl: All that for me?_

_Beth: Always ;)_

He shivered again. His cock twitched in his hand and he tightened his grip.

 _Daryl: Gfd I wish I could lick that up_ _  
_ _Daryl: Thinkin bout how sweet you taste_

He sent three tongue emojis right after. (Was he still doing this right?)

 _Beth: Ugh_ _  
_ _Beth: Daryl_ _  
_ _Beth: Why aren’t you here right now !!!_

He couldn’t stop himself.

 _Daryl: Only 20 minutes away_ _  
_ _Daryl: 15 if I drive fast_

_Beth: Like how fast?_

Hold up—

_Daryl: What_

_Beth: Like dangerously fast?_ _  
_ _Beth: I wouldn’t want you wrecking your truck with a boner. That would be embarrassing.  
_ _Beth: For you._

Was she being a smartass? He couldn’t tell. 

_Daryl: You serious_ _  
_ _Daryl: ?_

 _Beth: I mean… if you are ;P_ _  
_ _Beth: Just saying. I could hold off for 15 minutes_ _  
_ _Beth: If I knew I was gonna get the real thing_

She added an eggplant, a tongue, and squirting water emojis.

He froze, hand still wrapped around his cock. But the heat in his gut was subsiding, quickly replaced with a new burst of warmth that could only come from anticipation.

_Daryl: Don’t tease me princess_

_Beth: Not teasing this time…_   
_Beth: Didn’t I promise that we’d do it in your truck at some point?_ _  
Beth: And haven’t you figured out that I’m a woman of my word? ;)_

Holy mother of God.

**to be continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't gonna put a big, fat smut chapter right in the middle of this fic, but then... I did. And I have zero regrets.


	6. caught up in you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth is certainly a woman of her word.  
> And Daryl's never been one to turn down such a generous invitation.

**caught up in you**

_Daryl: Right now??_

_Beth: Lol is there a better time?_ _  
_ _Beth: Everybody’s asleep. I can sneak out real easy._ _  
_ _Beth: You can pick me up down the road and we can drive a couple miles away. Park in a field or something._

Daryl’s thumb was hovering over the keyboard on the screen of his phone. His other hand released the grasp on his hard cock, unable to focus on pleasuring himself when the very real possibility of pleasuring Beth— _in person_ —was being presented.

He pressed one letter, attempting to respond, when he saw that she was _Typing…_ again. He paused and watched with bated breath. 

_Beth: If you don’t want to tho_ _  
_ _Beth: Just say so. That’s fine :)_ _  
_ _Beth: We can stick to videos for tonight if you need to get to sleep_

He typed back as fast as he could.

 _Daryl: Girl_ _  
_ _Daryl: Please_ _  
_ _Daryl: Don’t play dumb_

 _Beth: Lol wouldn’t dream of it_ _  
_ _Beth: Soooo…?_

_Daryl: So down the road from your house?_

_Beth: Yes :)_ _  
_ _Beth: Are you on your way yet?_

_Daryl: Putting some pants on now_

_Beth: Don’t bother ;P_

_Daryl: You gonna wear them black panties ?_

_Beth: Do you want me to?_ _  
_ _Beth: :)_

 _Daryl: Kinda_ _  
_ _Daryl: Kinda wanna push em aside while I lick that wet pussy_

 _Beth: So what are you waiting for??_ _  
_ _Beth: Hurry up, Dixon_ _  
_ _Beth: And text me when you’re almost here so I can walk down and meet you_

She added a string of tongue emojis.

_Daryl: See ya soon_

_Beth: Real soon ;)_

But he’d already dropped his phone onto the bed and jumped up, scrambling around for a pair of pants and a shirt. Should he put on some underwear? Hell, what did it matter.

Less than five minutes later, Daryl was climbing into his truck and starting it up. The moon was high in the night sky, glowing bright against a backdrop of spattered stars.

And he began driving as fast as he could towards the Greene Farm.

* * *

The usually short drive to the Greene’s property felt agonizingly long this time around. Daryl fidgeted in his seat, gripping the steering wheel with both hands, chewing on his lower lip. He kept glancing at his phone sitting in the cupholder, excited for the moment when he would be able to pick it up and text her.

His dick remained half-hard the entire time. He kept readjusting himself through his jeans, swallowing thickly and forcing himself to focus on driving. Eventually, he was desperate for a distraction, though he didn’t want to smoke a cigarette and ruin the mouthwash rinse he’d done right before leaving the house. So he reached over and turned on the newly-fixed radio.

It took a couple strolls through the dial to find a station that came in clearly, but once it did, he didn’t care what it was. So long as he had _something_ to fill his ears. And his head.

_“—those words to me, and whisper so softly, I gotta hear you, ‘cause baby we’ll be… at the drive-in! In the old man’s Ford! Behind the bushes! Till I’m screamin’ for more! Down the basement, lock the cellar door, and ba-aby—“_

Oh, _perfect_. An 80s station. 

Was this a fucking _sign_? Or was the universe just taunting him?

Jesus Christ.

He was too sober for this, wasn’t he? No nicotine, no liquid courage. He was gonna fuck this up somehow. He was gonna puss out at the last minute. Probably when he needed to make the definitive move. And then it wouldn’t happen.

Because he didn’t know how to be as bold as Beth. He didn’t know how to be so… assertive.

Well, not when it came to _this_ , anyway.

He shook his head and pressed his foot down a little harder on the gas pedal. He tried to ignore the throbbing between his legs. He was _this close_ to saying fuck it and lighting up a smoke.

Then he crested a hill and the lights of the farmhouse came into view in the distance.

Oh, fuck. This was it. Time to text her.

Was she as anxious for his arrival as he was to be arriving? Shit, he could hope.

He slowed the truck and grabbed his phone, keeping one hand on the steering wheel while he texted with the other. 

_Almost there_

He barely glanced at the screen as he tapped the blue arrow to send his message. The phone vibrated in his hand a second later, and he pulled his eyes from the road just long enough to read it.

**_Look for me by the road_ **

He dropped his phone back into the cupholder, switched off the radio, and leaned forward over the steering wheel to look out the windshield as closely as possible. As the farmhouse lights grew closer, he eased his foot off the gas and onto the brake. 

He was still a quarter-mile from the farmhouse when he spotted Beth standing at the side of the road. He pressed on the brake.

As he slowly pulled over, the headlights illuminated her like a spotlight. She was wearing nothing but a pair of red booty shorts, a loose yellow tanktop, and black flip-flops. And thanks to the thin fabric of her shirt in the beam of his headlights, he could tell that she had left her camisole off.

So she hadn’t been teasing. This was really happening. With no liquid courage necessary. They were really gonna _do this_.

Late at night, while her family all thought she was sleeping peacefully in her bed. While he _should_ be sleeping peacefully in _his_ bed.

Oh, she was _bad_.

But so was he… 

His cock jumped inside his jeans, almost fully erect at the mere sight of Beth in his headlights. He hit the brake and came to a complete stop. She was already rushing up to the passenger side door.

She stopped and waited until he’d come to a complete halt before stepping forward and grabbing the doorhandle. She pulled it open and the dome light inside the cab lit up, casting a glow out the open door and across her face. She smirked up at him from where she stood in the gravel, hand still on the door.

“Well hey there, handsome,” she drawled, her voice dripping with sweet molasses. “You got a habit of pickin’ up pretty girls off the side of the road?” Her blue eyes glinted mischievously.

He swallowed thickly—a knot was already forming in his throat. He hadn’t done _near_ enough to prepare himself for seeing her in person again.

“Just you,” he said, flashing a smirk of his own.

She grinned and climbed up into the truck, plopping down in the passenger seat and slamming the door shut. She didn’t even bother to put her seatbelt on. As soon as the dome light went out, she set her phone in the cupholder beside his. Then she was leaning across the bench seat and grabbing both sides of his face.

Before he could comprehend what was happening, she was pressing her lips against his. Passionately. Longingly.

He breathed in her scent and kissed her back with the same heat and passion, shutting his eyes. His hard cock jumped in his pants, and he was grateful to be sitting down so she couldn’t see just how overly eager he was.

A second later, she pulled away, and he opened his eyes to find her grinning up at him. Her hands slowly drifted down to rest at her sides.

“You ready?” She asked.

Shit. He’d been ready _yesterday_. “Yeah. Where we goin’?”

“Just start drivin’. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

* * *

Daryl couldn’t focus on a goddamn thing with Beth sitting an arm’s reach away. He could barely focus on driving, though he forced himself to, because it meant finding a secluded spot and finally getting to put his hands all over her body. 

And _fuck_ , he swore he could feel the heat emanating off her, even a foot apart. Or maybe it was just the knowledge that she was already wet underneath those booty shorts. Maybe it was just his own building heat radiating around him. Could she feel it, too?

She kept squirming in her seat, so he thought she might. She was anxious. Which was relieving. Because he was well past anxious. He was downright fucking eager. He was _thirsty_. And the only person who could quench this particular thirst was Beth.

He glanced over at her from the corner of his eye, watching as she bit down on her lip a little harder every time they hit a bump in the road. How she squirmed a little more and squeezed her thighs together. His dick was achingly hard, and he could already feel the precome soaking a spot in his jeans.

Shit. Maybe he should’ve put on some boxers, after all.

They rode in silence for only a few minutes. Then she was reaching over and switching on the radio. 80s music filled the cab at a low volume, and she seemed satisfied with the choice of station.

“Oh, so yer radio _does_ work,” she remarked, looking over at him with a smile.

“Jus’ fixed it,” he said.

She turned up the volume. “Good timing.”

What did that mean?

He couldn’t even give it a second thought right now. He kept his eyes on the road and continued to drive, maintaining a speed that was about half of what he’d gone to reach her. Both of his hands were wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, and he couldn’t pull one away without the fear that it would drift across the seat to her bare leg.

He wasn’t sure he could help himself right now. When it was so dark and they were so alone. When those Snaps she’d sent him were still flashing through his head. When his cock was twitching at nothing more than her _presence_ , for Christ’s sake.

No woman had ever been able to get him this goddamn turned on. No woman had ever sparked such a blazing fucking _fire_ within him. What was this? Was this pure, unbridled lust in its truest form? Or was it infatuation? Could it possibly be— 

“There.”

Beth’s voice interrupted his thoughts and he glanced over to see what she was pointing at. 

Just up the road, amidst a thicket of trees, he could see a small grove off the side of the road. The moonlight barely penetrated its shadowy cloak.

Without a word, he pulled over and pressed on the brake. He steered the truck over the gravel and into the grass, inching through the grove until they were right in the center, surrounded by trees and wildflowers and tallgrass. Then he came to a complete stop and shifted into Park.

“Hope you got a good battery in this thing,” Beth said.

Daryl looked over at her, his fingers pausing as they wrapped around the keys. “Just replaced it a few months ago. Why?”

She smirked. “‘Cause we’re gonna need it.”

As soon as she said that, he turned the keys and switched off the engine, giving another turn to leave it in accessory mode. She opened the passenger side door and pushed it out all the way. The dome light turned on and filled the cab with a yellow glow.

“Goin’ somewhere?” He asked.

She turned back to him, still smirking. “Well, we don’t want the whole truck foggin’ up within five minutes. ‘Sides, we’ll need the room. _And_ the light.”

Oh. Um…

Thankfully, he didn’t have the chance to overthink what he should do next. Because she’d already decided for the both of them. Before he could pull his hand off the steering wheel, she was kicking off her flip-flops. Scooting across the bench seat and rapidly closing the distance between them. Then she was climbing into his lap, straddling him with her folded legs on either side of his thighs.

Without a word, she grabbed the sides of his face with both hands and kissed him. Hard.

He had sense enough to place his hands on her hips and kiss her back. She hummed against his mouth and traced his lips with her tongue. He parted them and allowed her inside, where she licked her way across his teeth and hummed some more, kissing him almost frantically. Like she couldn’t get enough. He returned her ferocity with one of his own, exploring her mouth with his tongue. She tasted like a sickeningly sweet mixture of apple juice and strawberry ice cream.

He had to remind himself to breathe.

The radio was steadily playing around them, filling the cab with 80s music. He barely noticed the background noise. Barely able to comprehend what song was playing, let alone _anything_ other than Beth.

_“—just beginning, to understand the miracle of living! Baby, I was afraid before. But I’m not afraid anymore! ‘Cause… ooooh, baby, do you know what that’s worth? Ooh, heaven is a place on Earth! They say in heaven, love comes first…”_

She bucked her hips against him and pressed herself further into his lap, relaxing. He grunted with surprise—and pleasure. He knew she could feel the hard-on beneath his jeans.

And she _definitely_ could. Because she hummed into his mouth again and he felt it vibrate down his throat right before he felt her pressing herself down against the bulge in his lap. His hands squeezed her hips, urging her even closer. She obliged.

Then she was rocking her hips against him and moaning into their kiss, and a groan escaped his throat as his cock jumped and seeped with more precome. They were breathing heavily, hums and grunts quickly morphing into moans and groans. He could feel the damp heat between her legs even through three layers of clothing. 

She let go of his face and reached down to grab the hem of her shirt with both hands, and they broke apart just long enough for her to pull her tanktop off over her head. She tossed it onto the floor of the cab and immediately went back to gripping the sides of his face and kissing him hungrily. 

Now that she was bare-chested before him, he couldn’t resist the urge to let his hands wander. He kept one hand on her hip while the other drifted up across the tensing muscles of her abdomen, and he felt goosebumps forming on her skin as he inched closer to her breasts. When his fingers found that familiar little curve, he cupped one breast in his palm and squeezed, then he brushed a fingertip across her hardened nipple. She gasped and nibbled on his lower lip in response. He pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and she moaned into his mouth, pressing herself down harder against his bulge, searching desperately for just the right friction. 

He growled against her lips before pulling away. He gently pushed her back with the hand that was kneading and massaging her breast, simultaneously tweaking her nipple every now and then, and trailed his lips down her chin, her neck, and her chest. She arched her back over the steering wheel, allowing him access to both bare breasts while his mouth made its way down and down. Her hands slid back to grasp the sides of his head, fingers tangling in his hair.

He kissed his way around both tiny breasts, and then inward. He flicked his tongue out across her nipples, eliciting a loud moan from her each time. Then he wrapped his lips around one nipple and sucked on it tantalizingly slow, meanwhile his hand was still encircling and gently kneading her breast. 

She shuddered against him and moaned again. Her grasp on his head and hair tightened, and her hips ground down against his cock through her shorts and his jeans.

 _Fuck._ He could already feel how _wet_ she was. 

And he already knew he wouldn’t last long. So he’d better make the most of it. He _had_ to see her come.

He growled against her skin and sucked a little harder—hard enough to leave a _mark_.

He was rewarded with more moans, and the sounds escaping from Beth’s open mouth were growing more guttural as Daryl sucked harder. He opened his eyes and glanced up to see her back arched, her head tilted back, her jaw slack, her eyelids fluttering. She was flushed pink, gasping for breath in between quiet moans of pleasure. He spotted the little purple mark on her lower neck and his cock jumped. 

He’d left that. _He’d_ done that. Marked her. Just like she’d marked him. She was his. And he wanted to mark her again. Wanted to make sure she _knew_.

He traced his tongue around her nipple and kept sucking, kept kneading his palm around her breast while she ground herself down against his erection and moaned for more. Then he lost control a bit, and he nipped at her tender flesh with the edges of his teeth. 

She shuddered and jerked in his hands, squealing in shock. “ _Daryl_ —!”

He immediately stopped, pulling his mouth away and looking up at her. She opened her eyes and met his gaze with lust-blown pupils and heavy eyelids, jaw still slack.

“‘M sorry,” he breathed out. “Didn’t mean to—”

“Why’d you _stop_?”

Holy fuck.

He didn’t waste a second with more unnecessary apologies. Instead, he resumed what he’d been doing, wrapping his lips around her nipple and cupping her breast. Then he switched to the other side, giving that one the same treatment. When he lightly dug his teeth into her nipple, she squealed again, but then her hips bucked as if on reflex, and she ground down into him with even more desperate need than before. He didn’t suck hard enough to leave a mark on her other breast, but he made sure to return to the first one and finish the job.

When he finally pulled his lips away, he gazed down and found a red ring around her nipple, wet with his saliva. He could already tell it would be a hickey by morning.

And she was squirming atop him with need. While his face was pulled away, she took the opportunity to lower her own and lean forward. Then she was taking charge again. Pushing his head back into the headrest and kissing him on the mouth. Even hungrier than before.

She didn’t linger there for long, though. His hand was still cupping one breast, his other grasped onto her hip, while her lips trailed down his chin and over, following his jawline and kissing her way through his stubble. Then she placed her lips tantalizingly close against his earlobe. He shuddered. More precome seeped from the head of his cock, soaking through his jeans. She was pressed so hard against him that she _must’ve_ felt it.

With both of her warm hands tangled in his hair and her mouth right next to his ear, she breathed out, “You try’na mark me up, Dixon?”

He shuddered again. His grasp on her hip tightened and he pinched her nipple with his fingers. She gasped into his ear, her lips grazing the tender skin of his earlobe.

“Just returnin’ the favor, Greene,” he growled.

He felt her smiling against his skin. She swirled her hips and gave his cock an agonizing tease of friction through his jeans. He groaned, low and tortured.

“Well somebody’s gonna figure us out,” she purred into his ear, her hot breath sending chills from the top of his head down to the very tips of his toes. “So you’d better stop that.” His cock throbbed and ached.

He murmured the first thing that popped into his head: “ _Make_ me.”

She gasped and pressed her lips to his skin, then she hurriedly kissed her way back to his mouth. Their lips converged again with heated urgency, hips bucking together with a shared desperation.

He thought about allowing her to take charge again. But he decided that simply wouldn’t work if he wanted this to last.

So before she could do much more than shove her tongue into his mouth, he was releasing his grasp on her breast and grabbing her by the hips instead. Then he lifted her like she weighed nothing—because she really didn’t when she was in his arms—and slipped out from beneath her while turning her body and setting her down where he wanted her.

A moment later, Beth’s head was resting back against the driver side door, lying horizontally across the bench seat of the truck. And Daryl was on his knees in the passenger seat, situated between her open legs. He was already beginning to sweat, so he pulled off his shirt and tossed it onto the floor atop hers. Then he reached up and grabbed her shorts, yanking them down her legs and tossing them aside, as well.

Sure enough, she was wearing those black panties from the Snaps. And he could _see_ her arousal soaking through the thin cotton.

He growled and leaned down, lowering himself between her thighs and grasping the backs of her legs. Her hands quickly found their way to his hair.

Shit. She seemed to really get off from grabbing him by the hair. Maybe he oughta keep it this length. He’d been meaning to get a haircut, but if _she_ liked it, then maybe he’d just get a trim. Keep the length. Who knew.

He placed his lips against one of her inner thighs and began kissing his way up towards the apex. She shivered beneath him and her grasp on his hair tightened. He wasted no time.

He was sick of waiting. Fuck, he’d _missed_ her. (And it had only been _two_ _days_! What the fuck?!)

Daryl slid one hand up to grab her panties and yank them aside. Then he trailed his lips across her bikini line, slowly kissing his way up over her labia.

Yeah. She was already dripping wet. The rich scent filled his nose, and his mouth immediately watered. He pulled back just long enough to get a glimpse—to admire the sight. Then he was leaning forward and burying his face in her cunt. Lapping up her saccharine wetness with his tongue while his other hand gripped the back of her thigh and held her firmly in place. 

She let out a squeal, and it morphed into a guttural moan. She bucked her hips up and he held her down, keeping his tongue centered on her slit, where he was still hard at work. Slowly, he made his way up to her clit. Swollen and pulsating, throbbing as he wrapped his lips around it and flicked his tongue out to tease the soft nub.

She trembled. Another long moan escaped, and it echoed around the inside of the truck, drowning out the music, pouring out the open door to fill the grove.

For a brief second, he feared that her sounds of pleasure would get them caught. Because he was pretty damn sure she could be heard from miles away.

Not that he could’ve cared any less at this point. He was way too fucking hard. Every time he leaned forward, his cock earned a little friction from inside his jeans, and he had to bite back a groan. The heat was building despite his best efforts to stave it off.

He _refused_ to let himself come before she did. Not to mention, coming in his pants would be kind of embarrassing.

He continued teasing her clit with his tongue, sucking on it in between tracing shapes around the pulsating nub. Beth’s thighs were trembling on either side of his head, and her nails were digging into his scalp. She bucked her hips up and he had to tighten his grasp on the back of her leg to keep her still while he licked his way down through her folds once more, flattening his tongue against her slit and finding a whole new pool of arousal waiting for him.

He swallowed her up and went back for more while she moaned and shivered.

He made his way back up to her clit, and then his fingers began inching towards her soaking wet entrance. But he stopped himself and decided he’d like to try and get her off with nothing more than his mouth. It would be a fun challenge. And maybe it would keep him from blowing his load too early.

Though his dick was throbbing and seeping with precome inside his jeans, even without any friction. Beth’s smell and taste, the sounds she was making, the way she felt against his mouth and in his hands—everything about her was encompassing his senses entirely. He could barely even comprehend that the radio was still playing, because all he could really hear was her labored breathing, her squeals and moans and gasps. And every few seconds, he would lift his gaze to glance up and check on her through the fringe of his bangs. To catch another sight that he could store away in the ol’ Spank Bank. 

He started tracing out letters with the tip of his tongue, pressing down a little harder with every squeal that escaped her mouth. _I W A N T Y O U C O M E F O R M E P R I N C E S S U S U S U S U S_

And then her muscles were tensing and her breath was audibly hitching in her throat. She bucked up into his mouth and he relentlessly continued sucking on her swollen clit.

She moaned out, half-choked, “ _Oh-ohmygod_ , Daryl—baby, I’m coming!”

He growled against her cunt. A second later, her whole body went rigid, right before she melted into a puddle of quaking muscles and high-pitched keening. She gripped the sides of his head with both hands and held him tightly against her pussy, and he managed to slide his tongue down just in time to find her tight little slit trembling just like the rest of her, gushing with her sticky sweet orgasm. He lapped it up as it came and slid the tip of his tongue just past her entrance, earning a guttural moan that seemed to shake his bones.

His hard cock jumped, but he could barely pay it any mind. All he cared about was how good Beth tasted. How she seemed to taste even _better_ when he knew she was getting off from his mouth, and his mouth alone.

When her climax finally washed out and she was left shivering beneath him, he felt one of her hands leave his head. He heard her fumbling for the cupholder, but he was still too occupied with her drenching wet pussy in his face. He didn’t open his eyes and glance up until he’d slid his tongue back to her clit and began sucking on it again.

She moaned in response, but she was holding her phone in one hand while the other remained tangled in his hair. She was watching him through the camera.

He hummed against her clit and watched her hand tremble, and he wanted to pull away long enough to ask what the hell she was doing. But he already had a pretty good idea. Knowing her. And he didn’t want to stop teasing and sucking on her clit, or tracing his tongue through her folds.

She must’ve spotted the flash of apprehension in his eyes, because she grinned and whispered out breathlessly, “Don’t worry—it’s just fer me… _Research_ purposes.”

He growled in response and she let out a moan, but he didn’t stop. 

Beth finally stopped recording after a minute or two and set her phone back in the cupholder. And just in time, too. Because Daryl was ready to _feel_ her.

He made one final lap with his tongue, lingering atop her clit and tracing out _U S U S U S U S U S_. Then he reluctantly pulled his head away and sat up. She released her grasp on his hair and he released her leg.

She was still panting as he grabbed her panties with both hands and yanked them down her legs, pulling them off her feet and tossing them to rest with their other clothes on the floorboard. After that, he scooted back until he was stepping out into the tallgrass, standing and still facing the seat.

“What’re you doin’?” She asked, sitting up on her elbows and peering at him curiously.

“You’ll find out in a sec,” he said. Then he swiftly undid his jeans and pulled them down, letting them pool around his ankles. His cock sprang free, jutting out hard and glistening with precome. “ _G’over here_ ,” he growled, and stretched his arms out to grab her by the legs and yank her across the seat to him. 

“ _Oh!_ ” She squealed in surprise and giggled, but allowed him to move her as he pleased. Until she was lying flat on the passenger seat with her ass hanging off the edge and out the door, her legs spread wide. He grasped her by the thighs to support her lower half, and then he angled himself until his throbbing dick was situated right at her entrance.

The tip was barely an inch away, and he could feel the damp heat radiating out, making his cock twitch with anticipation.

He paused for less than a heartbeat—just long enough to gaze down and take in the glorious sight before him. Beth. Dripping wet, her clit still swollen and covered in his saliva. Lying before him, staring up at him from the inside of his truck while he prepared to fuck her against the seat. Looking nothing less than… fucking _enraptured_ with him.

Then he thrust forward and slid inside without resistance. Her walls tightened around him and she gasped in a sharp breath, but she was already wet and loosened up. They both moaned out at the same time, and the sounds merged to create a whole new kind of music that made whatever was playing on the radio sound like nonsensical noise.

His grasp on her thighs tightened, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, and she bucked her hips against him until he was slipping in further. And still, she urged him deeper. Welcomed him. _All_ of him.

A low growl escaped his throat and he pulled out slowly, watching the way her chest heaved and her eyes widened. Her mouth was already starting to form an _O_ of ecstasy; her lips wrapped around the letter similarly to how they’d wrapped around his cock.

Fuck. He was _not_ gonna last long.

“Shit,” he panted out, thrusting into her once more and back out, beginning to build a steady rhythm. 

She moaned in response. “Oh fuck, Daryl—you feel so _good_.”

He had to squeeze his eyes shut and focus on not blowing his load right there. But she was so wet, so warm, so all-consuming. The heat was gathering at the pit of his stomach and refusing to diminish. It built higher and higher with every thrust into her soft cunt. With every tremble of her muscles beneath his fingertips, and every little squeal and breathless moan she made.

“‘M not gonna last long— _fuck_ ,” he warned, barely opening his eyes to glance down at her. His cock jumped and he stuttered his movements, fighting back the climax that was threatening to overtake him.

She made a squeaky little noise of pleasure. Then she murmured, “ _Good._ Come inside me, Dixon.”

It wasn’t so much a statement as it was an _order_.

A growl escaped his throat and a hot shiver ran through his whole body, pooling in his balls. He thrust into her with more vigor, and while he kept his hands grasped around her thighs, he leaned forward. She raised her head and met him halfway, and they kissed heatedly, breaking away with every two or three pecks to let out a moan or a groan, to gasp for breath. 

“ _Fuck_ , princess,” he breathed against her lips, steadily rocking his hips and slipping his engorged cock in and out, in and out. His head was all instincts now—no inhibitions to be found. “I don’t think I wanna come inside anybody else ever again.”

She kissed him feverishly then. Grabbed the sides of his face and bucked her hips into him. Pressed her mouth to his with nothing less than desperation.

And then she nibbled on his lower lip and purred against his parted lips, “I don’t think I want ya to, either.”

Aw, fuck. There it was.

The heat reached its boiling point and with one last thrust, and a very loud grunt, Daryl was exploding inside Beth’s hot cunt. His cock jumped and pulsed, emptying itself inside her, and she was still grasping the sides of his face and holding his mouth against hers.

He groaned long and low in his throat as the orgasm washed over him. Before it was finished, he felt a sudden burst of heat and wetness around his cock. And he noticed that she’d stiffened beneath him and her fingers were digging a little harder into his skin. She dug her teeth into his lower lip and he flinched, but it only proved to intensify the aftershocks of his climax. He could feel himself coming just a little more.

Whatever he had left was spilling out of his body. She was draining him dry yet again.

His eyes fluttered open and he started his descent back to Earth. He found Beth’s cornflower blues staring up at him, pupils blown wide. Her face was flushed and she was smirking. She had a glow in her skin that he was certain had nothing to do with the dome light above them.

And only now could he comprehend that there was still music playing in the background. It filled the truck and the grove and now, his head.

_“—light comes shinin’ through. I’m so caught up in you! Little girl. You’re the one who’s got me down on my knees. So caught up in you! Little girl. That I never wanna get myself free—”_

Christ.

What the hell was this girl _doing_ to him?

**to be continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly have no idea if guys actually do that "write the alphabet with your tongue" thing or not. I just thought it was a cute idea for him to be writing out "US" over and over on her clit without her having any idea lol
> 
> Totally random question: do you think Daryl jerks off with his left hand or his right hand...?


	7. friends (with benefits)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's pretty clear that Beth is having _fun_ with this situation.  
> And hell, if she ain't dragging Daryl right into her game.

**friends (with benefits)**

Daryl and Beth slipped their clothes back on and returned to their original seats inside the truck. She shut the passenger side door and the dome light went out, though the radio was still playing. It had gone to a commercial break for the next few minutes. He reached over and turned down the volume.

But before he could wrap his fingers around the keys in the ignition, she was scooting over across the benchseat, pressing herself close to him, sliding a hand up to cup the side of his face and tilt it towards hers. Then she captured his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. He shivered, hoping she didn’t notice.

She pulled away and gazed up at him through long eyelashes, a lazy half-smile on her swollen lips. “You gonna believe what I say now?”

Something stirred within his gut, and it had nothing to do with lust or the aftershocks of his orgasm. He found himself unable to answer. So he just grunted. 

She giggled softly and leaned back in to press her lips against the pulsepoint on his neck. He bit back a groan and she purred, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He stiffened as she began trailing her mouth down towards his collarbone.

Why was he allowing himself to get so goddamn _attached_? This was so stupid. She already had a boyfriend. He already had a girlfriend.

He was just an easy fuck. Just a bit of rough. Just a guy who was willing to drive twenty miles in the middle of the night to eat her out inside the cab of his truck. In less than two weeks, he’d be nothing more than a fun story for her. An exciting memory. A fulfilled fantasy.

And yet, he’d still be the worthless old redneck he’d always been. Except now, he’d be the worthless old redneck who was _way_ too infatuated with some college chick.

He couldn’t go around following his dick for the rest of his life. His brother was wrong about that part. He was (almost) sure of it.

With a reluctant sigh, he wrapped his hand gently around her arm and pushed her away. She relented, gazing up at him with a frown. He quickly pecked her on the lips in reassurance.

“Better getcha back ‘fore somebody notices yer gone,” he murmured against her mouth, slowly pulling away. His voice was still a bit hoarse.

She smirked. But her tone was audibly deflated. “Yeah, I guess so.” Then she conceded and scooted across the seat, back over to the passenger side.

This time, she took the time to buckle her seatbelt.

Daryl’s hands were trembling when he finally started up the truck and backed out of the grove.

* * *

They’d only driven a few miles out, so it didn’t take long to get back to her house. But it still left plenty of time for Daryl to overanalyze every single detail. To stiffen and grow awkward and uncomfortable.

Well, as uncomfortable as he _could_ be around her. Even now, when he felt so tense and doubtful and conflicted, he couldn’t help but notice that he was still more relaxed than usual. Especially considering he’d just been inside of her less than ten minutes ago. 

Something about Beth’s presence just… put him at ease. And maybe that was the part that frightened him most. Because it felt like a dangerous side-effect of infatuation. 

_Just a fling. Just friends with benefits. Get a grip, old man._

He still watched her from the corner of his eye. She didn’t squirm like before. She seemed even more relaxed than him. She was leaning back in the seat and staring out the passenger side window. There was a lazy smile on her face that she made no effort to conceal, and she seemed to be glowing.

He so fucking _badly_ wanted to reach over and grab her hand. Or place his palm on her thigh. He wanted to kiss her again, and feel her hot breath against his skin. 

Instead, he wrapped both hands tightly around the steering wheel and forced himself to stare straight ahead. Tried not to focus too much on the 80s music playing from the radio.

_“—you know I’d do anything for you, stay the night, but keep it under covers! I just wanna use your love toni-ight. I don’t wanna lose your love toni-ight! …Try to stop my hands from shakin’, ‘cause something in my mind’s not makin’ sense…“_

They were quickly approaching the spot where he’d picked her up. He turned his head to see that she was still gazing wistfully out the window.

“Want me ta drop ya at the end of the driveway?” He asked.

She blinked and turned to meet his eyes. “Yeah, it’s fine. Everybody’s asleep. Just pull up real quiet.”

He nodded and began slowing the truck. He reached over and switched off the radio, and the soft summer night sounds from outside quickly filled the silence. 

Then he was pressing down on the brake and coming to a stop at the end of the long driveway that led to the farmhouse. Beth unbuckled her seatbelt, retrieved her phone from the cupholder, and grabbed the doorhandle.

She turned back and asked, “Lemme know what you find out about the tattoo thing?”

He nodded. “I will.”

She flashed him a smile. “Alright. See ya soon.”

Before he could decide against it, he was reaching out and gently wrapping his hand around her wrist, pulling her towards him. She paused and leaned in. Their faces met in the middle for a long, deep kiss.

He had to force himself to pull away so he could breathe properly. 

She was grinning up at him. Then she licked her lips—like maybe she was trying to savor the taste of him.

 _Christ_. Probably not. But a guy can dream.

“Careful with that video ya took,” he murmured.

Her cheeks bloomed pink. “Don’t worry—it’s fer my eyes only.”

He grunted. “Good. See ya soon, Greene.”

She batted her eyelashes. “Maybe sooner than ya think. Night, Daryl.”

He opened his mouth, about to ask her what that meant, but she was already pushing the door open and hopping out of the truck. She flashed him one more mischievous smirk before slamming the door shut and turning away.

He watched her walk up the long driveway, hips swaying in those tight little booty shorts. He chewed the inside of his cheek and resisted the urge to roll down the window and call out to her.

Just to see that pretty face one more time. Just to see that smile that made her look so angelic, yet so absolutely _wicked_ at the same time.

Could anyone else see through her innocent ruse the way he could? He liked to think not.

He didn’t leave until she disappeared inside the house.

On the drive back home, he chain-smoked four cigarettes. But his hands were still trembling. Heart racing. Mind flooded with _Beth, Beth, Beth_.

Her scent. Her taste. Her melodic voice filling his ears and his head and every other part of his body.

He changed into a clean pair of boxers and sat out on the porch under the bright moon. And he chain-smoked another four cigarettes before his hands finally stilled and his heart rate returned to normal.

It was nearly 3 am by the time he managed to fall asleep. He was gonna be tired as hell for work, but… shit. 

_Worth_ _it._

* * *

Wednesday morning at the shop proved to be just as busy as the last two days. Though there was a slight lull. And Daryl managed to slip out back for a quick smoke break about an hour into his shift.

He pulled out his phone to find a new text message waiting for him. It was from Amy.

**_Hey, are you busy today? I was gonna come into the shop for some new tires. And maybe a few repairs ? Think you could hook me up?_ **

He texted back without so much as a second thought. Wasn’t the first time his girlfriend’s little sister had hit him up for some discounted car repairs.

_Sure. I’ll be here til 6 stop by whenever_

Before he could finish his cigarette, she’d replied.

**_Ok thanks so much!! It’ll probably be before noon_** **.**

_I don’t take lunch till around 1 so that’s fine_

She responded with a thumbs up emoji.

He spent the last moments of his brief smoke break checking through social media for updates on Beth. But she hadn’t posted anything all morning.

And whenever he thought about what they’d been doing last night—in the seat of his truck, out in the middle of a grove just a couple miles from her house—he felt a burst of warmth at the pit of his stomach. His whole body seemed to stiffen and shiver at the recollection. 

Was she watching that video she’d recorded? Recalling what they’d done in the middle of the night with a vague sense of longing? Was she thinking about him the way he was thinking about her? 

Was she fighting back tiny snippets of 80s songs that seemed to play on their own accord in the back of her mind all damn day? Like he was? 

_No,_ he told himself. No, she wasn’t.

He was fucking infatuated. And for no good reason. 

It was just a _fling_.

He had to remind himself that Andrea would be coming down in less than two days. He’d be spending the weekend with his girlfriend. He needed to get his head on straight and remember where his priorities lay. He had no choice but to focus on his (disastrous) relationship. 

It was well past time to put Beth Greene out of his mind. 

Even if he _had_ just been balls-deep inside her less than twelve hours ago…

* * *

Another hour passed and Daryl kept busy with repairs and tire changes and customers. He’d been downing coffee like it was water all morning. He slipped away just long enough to use the restroom, but while he was drying his hands, he figured he may as well check his phone.

He told himself he was just checking for an update from Amy.

As soon as he pulled his phone out and glanced at the screen, his heart skipped and started racing. There was a new Snapchat notification. The timestamp told him it had arrived barely fifteen minutes ago.

_From Beth_

His mouth was practically watering as he tapped the notification and typed in his unlock code.

Fucking Pavlov’s Dog over here…

There was no message. Just a pink square waiting to be viewed. He tapped it and held his breath.

A picture filled his screen, but it wasn’t what he’d expected. It looked to be the inside of Beth’s bathroom, and the mirror over the sink was all fogged up. She’d scrawled cursive in the steam on the glass: _wish you were here_ with a little heart.

Luckily, the timer was set for 10 full seconds, so when he squinted, he realized he could see peeks of her bare flesh in the mirror’s reflection. The curve of a hip here, a nipple there, the spot on her neck where he’d placed his mouth.

The Snap timed out and he immediately pressed Replay. His dick twitched in his pants and he had to resituate himself. 

Fuck. She was such a goddamn _tease_ sometimes.

When it timed out for the second and last time, he typed a reply and pressed Send. And another right after, because he just couldn’t help himself.

 _Daryl: Wish I was there too_ _  
__Daryl: Did it on the kitchen counter, might as well do it on the bathroom counter and make it even_

He added a tongue emoji and a squirting water emoji. Just for good measure.

He was about to close the app and head out back to work, but then her Online icon popped up. She must’ve opened his notification as soon as it came in.

Then she was _Typing…_ So he paused and waited, staring down at the screen in anticipation. His heart was still racing.

 _Beth: Careful_ _  
__Beth: I might hold you to that, Dixon ;)_

_Daryl: Hope you do, Greene_

Her Online icon disappeared.

He waited a few seconds, and when it didn’t pop back up, he exited Snapchat, locked his phone, and shoved it back into his pocket. She must’ve gotten busy. Probably had lots of plans today or something.

He needed to focus on work, anyhow. And getting rid of this little semi-erection she’d caused.

* * *

Half an hour passed and he still couldn’t stop thinking about Beth.

Goddamnit.

He cleaned his greasy hands on a rag and pulled out his phone to send a quick text. He had to scroll through his messages a bit to find the conversation with his tattoo artist, Joe.

When he did, he opened it and typed out a message, then he hit Send and put his phone away before Dwight could call him out for fucking around.

_Hey, was wondering if you had any openings in the next 2 weeks. Maybe on the weekend of the 8th? Wanted to bring a friend for her first tat and get myself a little something while I’m there._

* * *

It was a quarter to noon and Daryl was elbows-deep beneath the hood of an old Honda. The receptionist was on her lunch break, so Dwight was manning the front desk for an hour. He stuck his head into the garage and called out.

“Hey, Daryl! Yer girlfriend’s sister is here. Says she had an appointment with you?”

Daryl lifted his head and extracted himself from the car. “Oh, yeah,” he called back, pulling out his rag and wiping off his hands. “Hol’ on, I’ll be right there.”

He grabbed another clean rag and wiped his arms up as best he could, getting rid of most of the grease and motor oil, then he asked his coworker to take over and headed towards the lobby. Sure enough, when he walked in, Amy was standing at the desk. 

Dwight slapped him on the shoulder and said, “I’mma head out there to help ‘em, lemme know if anybody else comes in.” Daryl nodded in affirmation.

As Dwight left the room, Amy smiled at Daryl and approached, meeting him in the middle.

“Hey,” she said. They fist-bumped in greeting. “How ya doin’?”

“Pretty good,” he replied. “What’s up with you? Been doin’ alright?”

She nodded. “Yeah. My car’s outside. I think I just need some new tires.”

“No prob’em. All four?”

“Yeah. It’s been a while, and I’m about to go on a little road trip today, so I figured I better replace ‘em now.”

“Good thinkin’. That it, though? Don’t want ya breakin’ down halfway through yer trip.”

“Well, there’s also this like, kinda weird clunking sound that’s been comin’ from the front. Like, I dunno, maybe near the front driver side wheel?”

“Huh. I can take a look at it.”

“And there’s also this thing that’s been happening, but only every once in a while, when…”

Then Daryl’s attention was abruptly drawn away from Amy. He caught a flash of sun-bleached blonde hair in his periphery. The front door opened, and the little bell above tinkled with the arrival of a new customer. But it wasn’t a new customer.

It was Beth.

Amy kept talking, but he was no longer listening. 

It was like some cheesy rom-com—one of those scenes where the most beautiful girl in the movie walks in and everything goes slow-motion for a moment.

As soon as Beth walked through the door, that’s what happened. Like Daryl was seeing her in slow-motion.

The early afternoon sun set a glow about her from behind. She flicked her long hair back off her shoulder and paused in front of the door, glancing around. There was a little smile on her face. And she was wearing those tight white shorts that she’d worn at the bar, an even tighter white tanktop that exposed a half-inch of midriff, and the same black flip-flops from last night. No bra. 

(Dressed all in white like that, she was almost the picture perfect image of innocence. Except he knew better.)

As soon as she spotted him, their eyes locked, and her smile turned into a coy smirk. She gave him a tantalizing once-over with her eyes. Then she approached to stand close to her friend.

Fuck. Fuck fuck _fuck_!

“—so you think you could look at that stuff for me?”

Oh yeah. Amy was still talking.

Daryl snapped back to reality and forced himself to focus on the blonde right in front of him, rather than the one standing just behind her. 

She quickly added, “I should have enough for the tires an’ whatever else, but if it’s something major, I might have to put it off.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he assured. “Just pay fer the tires an’ I’ll fix whatever else.”

Amy beamed. “Oh, you’re the best!” She glanced back to find that Beth had joined her. “There you are. What were you doing?”

Beth looked at her friend and shrugged. “Tryin’ to find my phone.”

“Oh,” Amy said. “By the way, this is Daryl. Andrea’s boyfriend.” She turned back to Daryl and said, “Daryl, this is my friend, Beth. She’s goin’ with me on the roadtrip.”

Before Daryl could stumble over a response, Beth was smiling politely and giving him a casual glance. “Yeah, we’re old friends. He used ta work on the farm sometimes.”

 _Old friends,_ huh?

Then she locked eyes with him and—with a completely straight and serious face—asked, “How ya been, Mr. Dixon? It’s been a while.”

He blinked, dumbfounded.

_Mr. Dixon._

Something about the way that sounded sent a shiver through his bones, despite the humid heat of summer.

But he had to put on a show for Amy. He wasn’t supposed to know Beth as intimately as he did. His girlfriend’s little sister sure as hell wasn’t supposed to know that he knew Beth so intimately.

And her hickey was still there, fading but prominent. She hadn’t tried to cover it up today.

His heart thrummed and his mouth went dry. He cleared his throat and gave a curt nod. “Yeah, ‘sbeen a couple years, I think. But I been good, what about you? How’s yer dad?”

“He’s good,” she answered innocently. “So am I. Thanks.”

“And yer sister?”

“She’s good, too. We’ve just been havin’ lots of _fun_ while I’m home for the summer.”

The lilt in her voice and the glint in her eyes made him want to fucking combust right there on the spot. He was almost certain his ears had gone bright red. He could only hope his hair was covering them up.

“Sounds nice.” He cleared his throat again and focused on Amy, trying to appear as indifferent as possible. “So what was that sound like? An’ when’s the last time ya changed yer oil?”

Amy grimaced. “Umm… well, I’ll admit, it’s been a while.”

Beth side-stepped over to the front desk, eyeballing the bowl of Tootsie Pops that sat towards the front for customers, while Daryl forced himself to act like he barely noticed her.

She knew he couldn’t help but watch her from the corner of his eye. She _had_ to know.

“Ooh, candy,” she whispered aloud. She glanced over at him and, in between Amy’s explanations, asked, “Are these complimentary?”

He was trying to keep his focus on Amy and what she was saying, so he merely gave Beth a grunt and a brief nod. “Yeah, help yerself.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” she whispered to herself, reaching in and plucking out a single lollipop from the bowl. She stepped back over and resumed standing right behind Amy as she went about unwrapping her sucker.

Amy was still talking. “—but then if it’s really hot, it only makes the sound at night, like if I’ve been drivin’ more than ten or twenty miles, and then if…”

Shit. He’d barely been listening.

He couldn’t fucking pay attention to anything coming out of Amy’s mouth when Beth was so present. So _close_.

She _knew_ he’d be working today. And she probably knew that Amy had planned on coming up and visiting. She couldn’t have possibly sent him a warning text? Maybe given him a chance to prepare himself? 

Nah. Of course she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. He reckoned she got off on shit like this. The _game_ of it all.

Focus, Daryl. Fucking _focus_. 

Amy tried to describe her car problems to the best of her abilities, and Daryl was trying to listen and decide what needed to be worked on. But it was pretty fucking difficult to concentrate on what Amy was saying when Beth was standing just behind her, sucking on a Tootsie Pop with those big cornflower blues focused entirely on _him_. 

Thank God there was no one else in the room.

Beth was placing the red lollipop on the tip of her tongue, just past her parted lips, and running the tip ever-so-slowly around the sticky sweetness. Then she wrapped her lips around it and gave it a meaningful suck. All the while, her eyes were locked on him. And she was smirking coyly. 

It took everything he had not to visibly shiver at the sight. To focus his attention on Amy. But he could still see Beth in his periphery. He could still see every little thing she was doing to that damn Tootsie Pop… 

He’d never envied a piece of fucking _candy_ before. But, _good lord_.

Amy was prattling on, “—so I thought it might be the engine? Or, maybe the transmission? I dunno, I hope it’s just the brake pads, but…” 

When his eyes weren’t flicking over to catch Beth’s, he glimpsed her from his periphery. How she was looking him up and down. Her gaze seemed to linger on his arms, all streaked with grease and motor oil. And then she would suck a little harder on the lollipop. 

Christ. He could see her thighs squeezing together. Her nipples peaking beneath her tanktop.

And he couldn’t help but remember that one of those nipples still bared the marks from his mouth. From his teeth. 

He was _salivating_. His mouth was literally fucking watering.

He so badly wished he could see what that hickey looked like underneath the thin fabric of her tanktop right now—

“—but I know it’s gettin’ kinda old, and I’m close to two-hundred-thousand miles, so—”

Fuck fuck _fuck_.

Daryl swallowed hard, cleared his throat, and focused all of his attention on Amy, making his best effort to block out Beth in his periphery. “Yeah, might be time fer a new car altogether. But I’ll keep ya on the road till you can afford that.”

Amy grinned. “You really are the best, Daryl. Thank you so much.” Her grin faded. “Hopefully it’s not about to break down on me entirely.”

“Nah, you’ll be alright. It’ll get ya on yer road trip an’ back. Might take me a few hours, though. Hope ya weren’t plannin’ on headin’ out ‘fore five.”

He glanced past her shoulder just in time to see Beth flattening her tongue against the lollipop and dragging it down to the very tip before wrapping her lips around it and hollowing out her cheeks. Her eyes were locked on his, one eyebrow arched suggestively.

Amy shrugged. “I figured. It’s not a big deal. We were gonna stay the night in Savannah anyway.”

His cock was twitching to life in his pants, and _Jesus_ _Christ_ , if this wasn’t the absolute _worst_ time and place. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, trying to discreetly tuck his dick back with his thighs so it didn’t start making a tent in his jeans. Trying to make it seem like he was shifting because his back hurt. Trying to drag his eyes away from Beth. Trying not to let his periphery acknowledge her.

It was… _really hard_ , though. 

In more ways than one.

“So how much will it be?” Amy asked.

“Couple hundred fer the tires,” he responded. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight again. Beth was still sucking on that goddamn lollipop. Still eyeballing him from right over Amy’s shoulder. “I’ll have Danielle write ya up a bill fer the tires when I’m done. You got enough?”

“Yeah, I have enough for that,” Amy confirmed. “Thanks again. You want me to just come back later?”

Beth was staring at him licentiously, and as she pulled the sucker from her lips, it made a wet _pop!_ Her eyebrow arched higher and she resumed trailing the tip of her tongue around the sticky red treat. Her lips formed a perfect _O_ as they slowly wrapped around the Tootsie Pop.

His arms were covered in goosebumps, and it was taking everything he had to conceal the gradually growing erection beneath his jeans.

Amy didn’t seem to notice.

He shifted again and prayed to God it wasn’t obvious. He wanted to shoot Beth a look of contempt, but he didn’t dare risk breaking eye contact with Amy.

“Yeah. I’ll text ya when I’m done.”

Amy grinned and perked up. “Oh my gosh, you’re my _hero_! Seriously. Take your time.” She finally glanced back at Beth, who straightened her posture rather quickly and shot her friend an innocent smile with the lollipop still resting on her tongue. Amy gave her a slightly questioning half-smile, and Beth returned it with an expectant look, like she was impatient to leave.

Good cover.

Very briefly, Daryl found himself a little jarred by Beth’s reaction. She was… really fucking good at playing it cool. At being discreet.

Was that a good thing? Or…?

“We’ll just go kill some time till yer done,” Amy concluded, flashing Daryl another grateful smile. “No rush, though. If you’ve got other stuff to do.”

Daryl shrugged. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’ll have y’all on the road ‘fore it’s dark.” 

He glanced over and met Beth’s eyes. She’d already resumed her provocative licking of the lollipop in her hand. And she was smirking.

Amy furrowed her brows. “You sure? Yer lookin’ kinda— _pale_.”

Oh fuck.

He cleared his throat for the thousandth time and met Amy’s gaze with determination. Even though he could still see Beth sucking on that lollipop from the corner of his eye.

She was grinning mischievously. Lips wrapped around the shiny red sucker. Like the shiny red head of—

“Nah, I’m good,” he assured. “Just a little dehydrated.”

“Oh,” Amy said. “Maybe you should drink some water…?”

He was trying not to let his eyes flick over towards Beth. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Amy huffed out a breath and shot her gaze over his shoulder at the door behind him. “Speakin’a which, I gotta pee. Mind if I use yer bathroom?”

He jerked his head towards the closed door. “Go for it.”

She nodded. “Be right back.” Then she walked off towards the restroom door, disappearing behind it a few seconds later.

Which left him and Beth alone in the lobby.

 _Completely_ alone. 

She was still sucking on that Tootsie Pop. And as soon as her friend disappeared behind the bathroom door, she took a step forward and closed the distance between them. Blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

To his own surprise, he was the first to speak. As he leaned forward, barely six inches away from where she was licking and sucking on her lollipop, and batting her eyelashes.

“Yer fuckin’ _killin’_ me here, princess,” he growled.

The corner of her mouth tugged up into a defiant smirk, but he caught the way her thighs squeezed together. The way her cheeks flushed pink.

She flicked her eyes up and met his, one eyebrow still arched. Then she purred, “What d’you mean?”

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. 

He could _hear_ the underlying tones dripping from her voice. He could see so clearly through the facade of innocence that she was attempting.

And she _knew_ he could.

This girl was the _devil_. All dressed in white.

He inched closer, until their arms were just barely touching. He lowered his voice even deeper. “You know _exactly_ what I mean.”

She batted her eyelashes again. Gazed up at him with big doe eyes. His cock twitched and he wanted _so_ _fucking badly_ to reach out and wrap his hand around that pretty little throat. Shove her against the wall. Press his mouth to hers—oh lord, he bet she tasted like that cherry Tootsie Pop. Sweet and fruity, with the promise of an even sweeter center.

“I’m just here with my friend, Mr. Dixon,” she said, soft and quiet. But provocative all the same. She gave the lollipop another lick.

He shuddered, hand trembling at his side. _Fuck_ , he wanted to touch her.

“You _like_ playin’ innocent, huh?” He murmured. His eyes flicked from her eyes to the sucker and back again. “Gettin’ me all hot an’ bothered with my girlfriend’s sister standin’ between us—weren’t you just in _church_ the other day, Greene?”

Her lips curled up into a wicked smile and she let the Tootsie Pop rest against her bottom lip. With the other hand, she flicked back her long blonde hair, putting the fading hickey on her neck into full-view. 

She whispered, “And weren’t you just between my legs last night?”

Jesus fuck, he just went from 6 to midnight.

He had to bite the inside of his cheek to control himself. He tasted blood on his tongue. He swallowed thickly, and his eyes flickered all the way down and back up.

Christ, he wanted to rip those shorts off. He wanted to—

The sound of the bathroom doorknob jiggling made them both jump apart. In the split-second before the door swung open, Daryl cleared his throat and resituated himself through his jeans, though he tried to do it discreetly. It was a little rushed, and Beth caught sight of it, and when he went to turn around, he glimpsed her smirking wickedly. But she was crossing one arm over her chest to hide the hardened peaks of her nipples, so he didn’t feel _too_ embarrassed.

Just as he spun around and moved towards the front desk in an effort to appear preoccupied, Amy emerged from the bathroom and stepped forward, shaking her hands dry.

“You know yer outta paper towels in there?” She asked.

Daryl fumbled across the desk for the roll of paper towels sitting on the corner. He grabbed it and handed it over to Amy. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.” His hand was still trembling.

“Oh, thanks.” She took the paper towels and tore some off to dry her hands, handing the roll back to him. Completely oblivious to the electric atmosphere she’d just stepped into.

(And effectively shattered.)

Then she tossed the wad of towels into a nearby trash can and asked, “So, we’ll come back in like, two hours? Three?”

Daryl shrugged and moved to stand behind the desk, hoping it would conceal the slight tent in his pants. Making a point to avoid looking at Beth and focusing entirely on Amy. “Yeah, maybe four. I’ll text ya when I’m almost done.”

Amy smiled and nodded. “Okay, sounds good! Thanks again. See ya in a few hours!” Then she turned and motioned for Beth to follow. “Y’ready?”

“ _Mmhmm_.” Beth smiled and moved to follow after her friend.

“Let’s walk down to Sonic, I want some tots.”

“I think I want a slushie.”

As soon as Amy was out the door, though, Beth stopped in the doorway and glanced back over her shoulder. She gave Daryl a once-over, a smirk on her lips as she pulled the sucker out with a _pop!_

“You do look pretty _thirsty_ ,” she said. “Maybe you should drink more water, Daryl.”

He couldn’t form a response before she was turning and leaving. The door fell shut behind her.

Yeah. This girl was the devil alright.

And Daryl was lookin’ to spend some time in Hell.

**to be continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this might be the hottest not-actual-smut smutty chapter that I've ever written, and I'm quite proud of it. I hope y'all feel the same ;)  
> Tons of credit owed to **wallflow3r** for all the suggestions she gave me for this chapter.
> 
> And the “6 to midnight” line was taken from the movie _Get Him To The Greek_ lol  
> Edit: jk!! It was from _Forgetting Sarah Marshall_. Same actors, different movie lmao


	8. sounds fake but ok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl thought he understood the rules.  
> But now he's starting to think that he and Beth aren't even playing the same game anymore.

**sounds fake but ok**

Daryl had to step out back and smoke a cigarette to calm his nerves. And to get rid of the half-chub in his pants.

Jesus. It was so _wrong_ to be getting hard at work like this. To be watching the girl he’s infatuated with sucking on a lollipop while trying to talk to his girlfriend’s sister. It was so _bad_.

And for whatever depraved and fucked-up reason, that thought only proved to make him harder.

Goddammit. 

He held his phone in one hand, thumb hovering over the screen while he smoked.

Fuck it.

He opened his text messages and went to _Trouble._ Before he could stop himself, he typed out a message and pressed the little blue arrow.

_You think you’re real funny, huh?_

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four Mississippi.

And then _Delivered_ changed to _Read._

The three animated dots appeared. He held the smoke in his lungs, exhaling as soon as her message appeared.

 **_Oh no. I don’t think I’m funny._ ** **_  
_** **_I KNOW I’m hilarious_ ** **_  
_** **_;)_ **

He texted back feverishly, cigarette nearly forgotten between his fingers as he fumbled over the screen with both thumbs.

_You’re gonna pay for that when I get my hands on you again_

**_Pay for what?_ **

She added a smiley emoji with a halo.

 _Girl, you ain’t playin fair at all_ _  
_ _Teasin me like that_

 **_I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir._ ** **_  
_** **_I’m a child of God._ **

_Oh yeah_ _  
_ _Lucifer was an angel too_

**_EXCUSE ME !_ **

But she immediately followed up with an emoji of a grinning devil face.

 **_It’s not teasing if I follow through_ ** **_  
_** **_Remember? ;)_ **

_Fuckin_ _  
_ _KILLING._ _  
_ _Me._

 **_Sounds like a you problem…_ ** **_  
_** **_:)_ **

_Yeah we’ll see about that_

**_Promises, promises._ **

He’d already begun texting out a response, but then he saw she was typing again, so he paused.

**_Amy keeps trying to look over my shoulder ttyl_ **

His heart skipped and he took that as a sign to not text back. So he erased his message and locked his phone, shoving it back into his pocket. He put the burnt-out cigarette to his lips and inhaled desperately.

How the _fuck_ was he supposed to work like this?!

* * *

Daryl did his very best to focus on fixing Amy’s car. But no matter how hard he tried to resist, his thoughts kept drifting back to Beth. That red Tootsie Pop. That hickey he could see on her neck. And that hickey he couldn’t see, but knew was there.

What kind of old friends were Amy and Beth taking a road trip to see? How long would they be staying? What would Beth be doing down in Savannah?

Fuck. Why did he _care_? He shouldn’t.

He didn’t. He didn’t care.

He cut his lunch break in half, taking only enough time to scarf down a sandwich and have a cigarette. Then it was back to work on the car. 

Dwight wandered over and stood by for a moment, watching as Daryl worked on replacing one of the nearly bald rear tires.

“What’re you so _antsy_ for today?” He asked, one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around his coffee thermos.

Daryl shot back a glare and muttered, “‘M not.”

“You are,” Dwight insisted. “Been dancin’ ‘round here like yer _anxious_. What’s the deal?”

Daryl shrugged and avoided his friend’s gaze, staring down at the lugnuts he was loosening. “Jus’ in a rush. Try’na fit in fixin’ my girlfriend’s sister’s car in between everything else.”

“Weren’t you already busy enough today? Why you goin’ so far outta yer way?”

“‘Cause I’m obligated ta help her out.”

Dwight scoffed. “Right. _Obligated_.”

Daryl brushed him off and kept working. 

Damn. He needed to get better at playing it cool. Maybe he wasn’t being as discreet as he’d thought.

Never know who could be watching.

* * *

When Daryl was nearly finished, he sent Amy a text to let her know. And fifteen minutes later, he spotted her and Beth sidling back into the shop.

This time, they were both damp with sweat and holding styrofoam Sonic cups, sipping from the bright red straws and giggling quietly with one another. They composed themselves and put on polite smiles once they were inside the lobby. The receptionist was sitting behind the desk, organizing paperwork. Daryl walked up and met Amy near the desk, still wiping his hands clean on a grease-covered rag. 

He couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious of how he looked—he felt Beth’s eyes raking him up and down, even if she was doing so discreetly. He was dripping with sweat, and most of his arms and neck were streaked with motor oil and grease and various other kinds of dirt. He must look like shit right now. Meanwhile, she was looking like… 

Fuck. Like something sweet enough to _lick_. Little beads of perspiration glistening across her collarbones, strands of blonde hair sticking to her forehead, and a red blush in her face. 

Couldn’t think about that right now, though. Amy was right in front of him. And—oh, she was talking. He should probably be paying attention.

“So you got it all fixed up?” She asked, smiling up at him hopefully.

He nodded. “Yup. All new tires, fresh oil—checked out those sounds. Wasn’t nothin’. A couple quick replacements.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much!” She grinned. “You think that old hunk’ll make it down to Savannah and back?”

“Wouldn’t let ya leave if I didn’t,” he assured. 

“And what were the sounds, exactly? I was so sure that the whole engine was about to fall out or somethin’.”

“Oh yeah, I found some part rollin’ around in there. Didn’t know what it was for, so I jus’ threw it out. Pretty sure the car won’t catch on fire without it.”

Amy’s face fell and she appeared confused. “What—really?”

Beth giggled softly from behind her. “Amy, it was a _joke_.”

Daryl smirked, glancing over to catch Beth’s eye for no longer than a split-second.

“Oh my god.” Amy rolled her eyes, then she smiled in surprise. “Since when d’you make _jokes_ , Daryl?”

He felt his ears going red and he shrugged awkwardly. “I’ono.”

She waved him off, shaking her head. “Okay well, we need ta be hittin’ the road. Should I just pay the bill with her?” She pointed towards the receptionist.

“Yeah,” he said, taking a step away to make room for the girls’ path. “She’s got it ready for ya. Drive safe, alrigh’? Call me if anythin’ goes wrong.”

“Will do,” Amy said. “Thanks!” She reached out and gave him a brief fist-bump, then she approached the desk and began speaking with Danielle.

Beth waited behind her friend, hands wrapped around her Sonic cup while she idly sipped from the straw. She looked over and locked eyes with Daryl as he retreated towards the door. And she shot him a little smirk.

She released the straw from between her lips long enough to lift her head and call out, “Thanks again, Daryl!”

He didn’t know what else to do, so he awkwardly raised his hand in a goodbye wave. Then he turned and slipped out the door into the garage. 

A few minutes later, he peered out from beneath the half-open garage door and watched Amy’s car back out and pull into the street.

And just before it drove away, he caught a glimpse of Beth sitting in the passenger seat. Smiling. She seemed to be looking right at him.

Then she was gone.

* * *

Daryl stayed an extra hour to ensure that _most_ of the jobs he’d promised would be done today actually got finished. Then he remembered that Merle was coming over and two hours of overtime wouldn’t be possible tonight.

As much as Merle annoyed him, he was still Daryl’s brother. And Daryl didn’t believe in blowing off family. Besides, they hadn’t really hung out one-on-one in a while. He got the feeling that Merle was itching to talk to him about something, and he wasn’t sure what it could be, but he was almost certain it had something to do with Beth. Or Andrea. Or both.

He hoped not. But, Merle being Merle… 

Daryl finally clocked out and climbed into his truck a few minutes after six. He’d been so busy and focused on finishing in time to beat Merle to the house that he hadn’t even thought to check his phone since he’d watched Beth and Amy drive away. 

There were 2 new text messages waiting for him.

 **_Merle_ ** _2m ago_ _  
_ _Jus clocked out c u soon_

 **_Trouble_ ** _1h ago_ _  
_ _You looked even hotter than usual btw ;) all sweaty and greasy_

He immediately opened Beth’s text, pulse quickening. 

_Ain’t gotta lie to me_ _  
_ _You were lookin downright delicious tho_

He added three tongue emojis. And an eggplant emoji. Fuck it.

When his message didn’t turn to _Read_ after a few seconds, he switched over to open Merle’s text message. He sent back a simple _K_ in response.

So if Merle had just clocked out, that should give Daryl about an hour to get home, take a shower, and prepare for his arrival. Assuming Merle was gonna go home and change before stopping by the store and heading out to the cabin.

Better not waste any time.

He started up the truck and left his phone in the cupholder, then he drove home. Chain-smoking and listening to the 80s station on the radio. Anxiously awaiting a response from Beth.

But it never came.

* * *

As soon as he got home, he refilled Dog’s food and water bowls. Then he stripped off his clothes, plugged his phone into the charger (because his battery was more depleted than usual after today, and just in case Beth decided to text back…), and hopped into the shower. He figured he had at least another twenty minutes before Merle would show up.

Beneath the spray of hot water, his mind drifted back to Beth. Or rather, remained lingering on her. As he scrubbed away the grease, sweat, and dirt from his skin, he recalled how she’d looked dressed in tight white clothes, sucking on a lollipop and eyefucking the shit out of him. Then he recalled the text she’d sent, wondering when she’d respond. Wondering how far into the drive with Amy she’d gotten, and who were they going to see? How long were they gonna stay? Would Beth even have time to text him back, or would she be too preoccupied with… _other_ things?

Regardless of where his mind wandered, it kept coming back to the same place: Beth in those tight white shorts and that even tighter tanktop, her lips wrapped around a Tootsie Pop, her eyes set on him.

 _Just_ him.

He couldn’t help it. Halfway through rinsing off, his cock was twitching to life, and the heat that had built and receded and built again throughout the day was returning with a vengeance. With a defeated sigh, he reached down and began touching himself. Stroking his growing erection, slowly at first, picking up speed as he got harder and the warmth grew larger beneath the pit of his stomach.

He squeezed his eyes shut and focused entirely on that image of Beth. Replayed the same few minutes in his head over and over and over. Then he began to switch over to older memories—like last night, when he’d been buried between her thighs in the cab of his truck. Looking up at her as she panted and moaned. _Fuck,_ she’d been wet. Was she that wet today? Whenever she was sucking on that Tootsie Pop and squeezing her thighs together, was it because she was imagining his face in between them?

With a few more strokes, he’d be at the edge. He could already feel the bubble preparing to burst. He kept thinking, _Beth, Beth, Beth_.

And then— 

“Honey, I’m ho-o-ome!”

Merle.

_Fuck._

Daryl’s hand immediately released his cock and he opened his eyes. A second later, he heard his brother’s footsteps outside the bathroom door. Then Merle’s scratchy voice was hollering through the door.

“Hey, asshole! I’m here! What’re you doin’ in there, jerkin’ off?!”

Aaaand there went what was left of Daryl’s erection. He cursed under his breath and shut off the water.

“I’m comin’ out now!” He called out. “Hold on a damn second, ya got here fast as hell.”

He could hear Merle’s laugh from the other side of the door. “I ain’t nothin’ if I ain’t punctual! You knew I was comin’, should’a been ready!”

Daryl rolled his eyes and listened as Merle’s footsteps drifted away. He stepped out of the shower and grabbed his towel, drying off quicker than usual and leaving his hair damp. He slipped on the clean sweatpants and wifebeater he’d set on the counter. And barely two minutes later, he was opening the bathroom door.

Just to find Merle standing in his bedroom, right in front of the nightstand beside the bed. Where Daryl had left his phone plugged in.

His phone was in Merle’s hand. And Merle was staring at the screen with wide eyes, tapping the screen with a very curious finger, and grinning like a fucking maniac.

Oh God, no.

Merle raised his head at the sound of the bathroom door opening, but his grin remained plastered to his face. “Holy _shit_ , li’l brother!” He exclaimed gleefully. “You been holdin’ out!”

Daryl leapt across the room in four quick strides. He couldn’t think of what else to do, so as soon as he was within arm’s reach, he smacked the phone out of Merle’s hand with all his strength. It flung out of Merle’s grasp and flew across the room to land in the corner with a loud clatter.

Thank God for that fuckin’ Otterbox.

Merle’s gleeful grin turned to indignation. “Hey—!”

“What the _fuck_ d’you think yer doin’?!” Daryl cried. He was furious. And humiliated.

Because he already _knew_ what Merle had been looking at.

God fucking dammit. That was for _his_ eyes only. No one else’s. Especially not fucking _Merle’s_.

But Merle just chuckled. “What am _I_ doin’? What’re _you_ doin’, boy?! Textin’ some college chick all dirty like, keepin’ a folder’s worth’a nudes on yer fuckin’ phone—maybe you should change yer password, dumbass.”

“Fuck you!” Daryl spat, reaching out with both hands and giving Merle a hard shove.

Merle stumbled back against the nightstand but quickly regained his composure. His grin returned and he laughed. “Oh, c’mon, Darylina. I’m proud! Yer a pervert! Just like _me_!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Daryl argued, stepping forward and getting in his brother’s face. “That shit wasn’t meant fer you to see! You had no fuckin’ _right_ —”

“Calm the fuck down,” Merle said. He shoved Daryl back, still smirking. “I ain’t gon’ tell nobody. Shit, I got a bunch’a pics an’ videos of Frankie. I’ll show ‘em to ya. Then we’ll be even.” He laughed.

Daryl scoffed. “Fuck off. This ain’t funny. Those pictures weren’t meant fer you—”

“— _and_ videos,” Merle interrupted, waggling his eyebrows.

Daryl fumed. “Yer a sick fuck.”

Merle barked out a laugh. “Never claimed I wasn’t. But tell me, baby brother, how am _I_ the bad guy here when _you’re_ the one sexting a college girl behind yer girlfriend’s back?”

At that, Daryl deflated. He took a half-step back and waved off his brother’s words. “You already knew what I was doin’. You saw it fer yerself at the bar.”

“Shit,” Merle chuckled. “I saw _some_ of it at the bar. I didn’t think it was goin’ _this_ goddamn far. Fuckin’ Christ, Daryl. You drove to her house in the middle of the night? Yer gonna get yerself _caught_ , ya dumb fuck.”

Daryl blinked, staring back at his big brother with trepidation. But he didn’t know how to argue back. 

Merle added with a taunting half-smile, “She texted back, by the way. That’s why I checked yer phone. Saw a new message from somebody named _Trouble_ —that’s awful cheesy, ya know that, right? Does _she_ know ya got her number saved like that? ‘Cause it’s fuckin’ _disgusting_.”

Daryl felt his face going red and quickly turned around with a disgruntled sigh. He walked over to the corner to retrieve his phone from the floor. Merle laughed behind him as he picked it up.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he taunted. “Gotta see what she said, huh? Ya just can’t _wait_.”

But Daryl resisted the urge to check the screen. He simply shoved the phone into a pocket in his sweatpants and shot Merle a defiant glare.

“I ain’t fuckin’ talkin’ about this with you,” he said. His blood was still boiling and he kinda wanted to shove his brother against the wall and give him a couple good hits in the face. But he knew that wouldn’t solve anything. And it wouldn’t erase the images of Beth from Merle’s memory.

Hell, he should’ve expected as much, anyhow. Merle had always been a nosey bastard. And Daryl probably _should_ change that password.

He stomped out of the bedroom and, of course, Merle followed. Cackling all the way.

“Yeah, ya are, though. ‘S only half’a what I wanted ta talk to ya about, but ain’t no point in beatin’ around the bush.”

Daryl went straight to the fridge to find the case of beer Merle had brought. He grabbed two cans and slammed the fridge shut, turning around to see Merle standing a couple feet away, smiling like some kinda smug asshole.

“Only half, huh?” Daryl growled. “And what’s the other half?”

He shoved one of the beers into Merle’s chest as he brushed past him, and Merle let out a chuckle as he grabbed the can and turned to follow. “Other half? I’ono—we’ll get there if we get there. Don’t change the subject.”

They stepped out onto the porch and Daryl plopped down into his rickety old chair, popping open the tab on his beer. Dog followed after them, curling up at the edge of the porch in the evening sunlight.

Merle walked over to the bench and sat down, opening his own beer. He took a long sip and smacked his lips, then he turned his head and grinned wickedly at Daryl. “What I wanna know is why ya didn’t tell me what a _freak_ that li’l blondie is. Shit—yer _both_ freaks!” He barked out a laugh. “It’s fuckin’ _awesome_! Hell, I love seein’ ya get yer dick wet fer once, Darylina!”

Daryl took a very long drink of his beer. He met his brother’s gaze with a stony glare. “Told you I’m not talkin’ about this.”

Merle’s face fell. “Why not?”

“‘Cause it’s none’a yer goddamn business.”

“I beg ta differ.” Merle scoffed. “How is my only brother’s happiness none’a my business?”

Daryl rolled his eyes and took another drink of beer. “My _happiness_? Ain’t got nothin’ to do with that. ‘Sides, since when the fuck d’you care about _my_ happiness?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Merle said. He took a swig from his can and burped. “Quit pullin’ that played-out old card. You know shit’s _different_ now.”

Daryl grunted and turned his head to gaze out at the horizon instead. He grabbed his pack of cigarettes from beside him and lit one up. When he exhaled smoke and still didn’t respond, Merle went on a little more defensively.

“It _is_ ,” he insisted. “A helluva lot more different than I ever thought it could be. Can’t say ya don’t agree with me on that much.”

Daryl merely shrugged.

Merle shook his head. He leaned back in his seat, pulling out his own pack of smokes. He lit one up and took a long drag.

For a moment, both Dixon brothers sat in silence. Smoking their cigarettes. Sipping their beers. Staring out at the horizon as the sun dipped lower and lower.

Daryl’s hand was itching to reach for his phone. To unlock the screen and see what Beth had texted. But he was adamant about denying Merle the pleasure of witnessing it. Maybe if he kept ignoring it, kept dodging the subject, Merle would forget and move onto some other bullshit. Maybe. 

Their cigarettes were nearly burnt down to the filters when Merle decided he couldn’t stay quiet any longer. 

“Listen, you might not wanna hear it, an’ you might not even believe me—‘cause Lord knows I’ve given ya plenty’a reason over the years ta take my word with a grain of salt…”

Daryl turned his head and met Merle’s gaze at that statement, intrigued.

Merle paused and took a swig of beer, swallowed it down, and pointed at Daryl with a burning cigarette pinched between his fingers. He narrowed his eyes, a stern look on his face—like he was being completely serious. Even his tone reflected such. “But fact’a the matter is, what I seen at the bar the other night was somethin’ I ain’t seen in years. You had a _look_ about ya, baby brother. When Beth was around, you seemed _happy_. Really an’ truly fuckin’ _happy_.”

Holy shit. He just used Beth’s real name. And he didn’t mention Daryl’s dick. He must be _really_ serious.

What the… 

“An’ look, yer my brother. I love yer stupid ass,” Merle paused and downed a swig of beer. “No homo, but you deserve to be as happy as I am with a woman. Not sayin’ you could ever find anythin’ _close_ ta what me an’ Frankie got, but you can try. I’m thinkin’ this college chick might be yer best bet. Shit, you deserve some steady good pussy, too.”

Ah. There it is.

Daryl took the last drag off his cigarette before tossing the butt out. He averted his gaze away from Merle’s and busied himself with taking a swig of beer.

Merle sucked his teeth, but didn’t say anything. He tossed out his burnt-down smoke, as well, and resumed drinking his beer. He drained the can and burped loudly. 

“Can’t ignore me forever,” he chided. He stood up and crushed the empty can in his hand.

Daryl glanced up and found Merle grinning. Instead of responding, he put his own beer can to his lips and tilted his head back to drain the last couple drinks. Then he tossed the empty can at Merle. 

“Get me another,” he grunted.

“Yes, massa,” Merle mocked, kicking Daryl’s shin as he walked past and went inside.

Daryl cursed under his breath and rubbed at the sore spot on his shin. But as soon as Merle disappeared inside, he pulled his phone out and checked Beth’s text messages.

Sure enough, she’d texted back while he was in the shower. 

**_You keep calling me a liar, I’m gonna start getting offended :P_ ** **_  
_** **_Delicious, huh? Like… delicious enough to eat? ;)_ **

Goddamn. He had about half a dozen responses already forming in his head, but no time to type them out.

He locked his phone and shoved it back into his pocket, and a split-second later, Merle was reemerging on the porch and holding out an unopened can of beer for Daryl to take.

“‘Salright, ain’t gotta hide it from me,” Merle taunted, plopping himself down on the bench and popping open the tab on his beer.

Daryl ignored him and opened his own can, taking a long swig.

“Text ‘er back,” Merle said. “Don’t wanna leave her on Read.” He chuckled. “Better let her know just how _delicious_ she looked—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Daryl snapped. “This shit ain’t _funny_ , asshole. Stop fuckin’ antagonizing me.”

Merle frowned, eyebrows knitting together. “I’m jus’ try’na _help_. No antagonization here. Shit, ya’d _think_ you’d be _grateful_ for the support, considerin’ I know about y’all’s dirty little secret. And yet, here I am, offering _helpful_ advice an’ bein’ told to shut the fuck up…”

“Your advice ain’t helpful,” Daryl said. “‘Cause first off, yer readin’ too much into it. An’ second off, nobody _asked_ you.”

“Nobody _ever_ asks me. Don’t matter ta me none. But what the hell ya mean, readin’ too much into it? All I did was skim the pages, knucklehead. An’ the message _still_ came out crystal clear.”

“No message ta be found. ‘S just a summer fling. We’re both in a relationship. We’re just fuckin’ around fer a few weeks. That’s it. End of story.”

“Yeah fuckin’ right. This’s already past the point of fuckin’ around—yer catchin’ _feelings_ , baby brother.”

“Fuck off.”

“Way to prove my point.” He laughed. “See? I can _tell_ yer lyin’, ‘cause yer ears turn red an’ ya get all flustered. Jesus Christ, yer like a schoolboy in love!” He laughed a little harder.

Daryl grit his teeth and went about lighting up a fresh cigarette. “This is a real fun game fer you, huh? Really gets yer rocks off.”

“Nah, I ain’t gettin’ nothin’ outta this.” Merle paused long enough to follow Daryl’s suit and light up another cigarette. As he exhaled through a smug smirk, he said, “Just the satisfaction of watchin’ my dumbass brother bumble around like a fuckin’ moron ‘cause he don’t wanna admit he’s _fallin’_ fer Old Man Greene’s little girl.”

“Don’t call ‘er that,” Daryl snapped back.

“Oh, sorry,” Merle mocked. “Would’ja rather I call her _princess_?”

Daryl’s hand tightened around his beer can and he shot Merle a look of pure contempt. “I’m not fucking _falling_ for her. Just ‘cause she makes me happy fer now don’t mean—“

But Merle leaned forward and interrupted excitedly, “ _AH!_ So you _admit_ it! She _does_ make you happy, ya stubborn motherfucker!”

 _"For now_ ,” Daryl repeated sternly. “Lemme fuckin’ finish—it don’t mean anything more’an we have good sex. There’s a pretty thick fuckin’ line between lust an’ love, ya know.”

Merle cackled and threw back a swig of beer. He grinned knowingly and took a long drag off his smoke. As he exhaled through his teeth, he said, “That’s where yer _wrong_ , young one.” He laughed condescendingly. “Oh, _lord_. You still got so-o-o much ta learn. And the worst part is I can’t _teach_ ya—just gotta find out on yer own, I reckon.”

“Oh, fuck off. You barely know shit.”

“Key word: _barely_. I know _some_ shit. Like that line you think separates lust an’ love? Yeah, it ain’t so thick as ya think. Might be a shocker, but it turns out the fastest way to a man’s heart is through his _pecker_.” Merle paused to laugh crudely. “And can’t nobody convince me otherwise, ‘cause I figured it out the _hard_ way. Shit, just look at where I am now! All settled down, stickin’ my dick in the same pussy every other night. Sayin’ I love you an’ doin’ romantic shit. And I can’t even say I hate it. Bet’cha never coulda seen that comin’!”

Daryl rolled his eyes, taking a lazy drag of his cigarette. “Not from a mile away. But you got _lucky_ —’specially findin’ a girl as good as Frankie.”

Merle beamed. “Don’t I know it.” He took a swig of beer and smacked his lips happily, following it with a long inhale of nicotine and tar. “Reckon we both _got lucky_ —pun intended.” He laughed. “Me with the pretty li’l redhead, you with the pretty li’l blonde. Hell, we’re breakin’ the mould together, little brother! You’d better lock that shit down ‘fore she loses interest.”

Daryl rolled his eyes again and heaved an agitated sigh. “How many times I gotta tell you it ain’t like that? Ain’t even _comparable_. I’m already locked down with a pretty li’l blonde.”

Merle’s expression turned to that of complete bewilderment. And disgust. “You talkin’ ‘bout Andrea?!” He scoffed. “Shit, man. Sugartits might be pretty ta look at, but on the inside, that bitch is a _dog_.”

A few feet away, Dog perked his head up from where he was lying at the edge of the porch.

Merle glanced over and told the pooch, “No offense.”

Daryl bristled. “Since when d’you give a fuck ‘bout what’s on the inside? Ya sure as shit ain’t with Frankie ‘cause you think she’s a _good_ _person_.”

Merle’s bewilderment returned. “ _Seriously?_ Why the fuck would I be try’na have kids with this chick if I didn’t think she was at least tolerable? Tell me _that_ , wise ass.”

“What—y’all are try’na have kids?”

“Don’t change the subject. We’re talkin’ about _you_ here. I like Frankie as a person. She’s a ride-or-die kinda bitch, an’ that’s what I _like_. She could fuckin’ _kill_ me if she wanted, an’ I’d be beggin’ her ta kill me harder. And ya know who else seems like a ride-or-die kinda bitch? _Beth._ She’s got the kinda BDE yer ol’ girl Andrea could only _dream_ of havin’. You really gonna try to tell me your lame-ass girlfriend can turn ya on like _blondie_ can?”

“I’m not gonna tell ya anythin’ like that, ‘cause it’s none’a yer damn business.”

Merle leaned in and spoke more intently, “Look, ya think I dunno what I’m talkin’ about, but I do! I know exactly what yer feelin’ right now, Daryl. It feels like—like ya got a boner—”

“Please stop.”

“Lemme _finish_! It’s like ya got a boner… _in your heart_. Right? Like this girl gets ya hard, but in a _different_ way. Like a—a _love_ erection—”

“I swear ta God—”

“Wait—a _heart-on_! Right? _RIght?!_ ” He laughed maniacally.

Daryl just shook his head and took a very long swig from the can in his hand. 

Then Merle said, “Oh, c’mon. Lighten the fuck up. I’m try’na put it into terms you can understand. What with yer head all focused on yer pecker an’ ignorin’ yer heart.”

Daryl rolled his eyes and took a sip of beer, smoking his cigarette and turning his head to gaze out at the horizon instead of his brother. “Gimme a break.”

“A break from what? Yer limp-dick denial? You seem ta be forgettin’ that I know you better’an anybody. I can read you like a _book_ , boy.”

“Well, stop readin’.”

“Can’t help it. It’s just so easy,” Merle retorted. “Don’t get me wrong, though. It’s kinda nice seein’ ya all wrapped up in a girl ya actually love. If you’d stop bein’ such a fuckin’ idiot about it.”

“Fucking _Christ_ ,” Daryl cursed. He shot Merle a glare and said, “It’s a fucking _summer fling_. She’s goin’ back to Louisiana in less’an two weeks, back to ‘er boyfriend. Then it’ll be over. And I won’t be riskin’ everything with Andrea. Won’t ever risk it again.”

Merle laughed. “Yeah, right. Keep tellin’ yerself that.” He shook his head, still chuckling as he sipped beer. “Risk, schmisk. Lemme ask ya this—”

“Gettin’ pretty sick’a yer questions.”

“Yeah well, I’m gettin’ pretty sick’a yer shitty attitude. Just answer me this _one_ fuckin’ thing. _Honestly_.”

Daryl tightened his jaw and glared at Merle with narrowed eyes. “An’ what’s that?” He grumbled.

Merle’s eyes lit up and he leaned forward a bit, a serious expression on his face. Though the corner of his mouth was still tugged up towards a smirk. “If sex was off the table, would ya still wanna spend the night with her? Or like, a whole damn weekend?”

Daryl blinked, frowning in confusion. “With Beth?”

“Obviously.”

He didn’t know how to respond. (He did, actually. It was a resounding _yes_. But that would be way too much ammo for Merle.) He shrugged awkwardly and glanced away. “I’ono.”

He could see Merle grinning from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah… that’s what I thought.”

Daryl bristled and kept his lips pursed, his gaze averted.

Merle chuckled lowly and said, “Hate ta break it to ya, baby brother, but _that_ ain’t a fling. Ain’t even just _fuckin’_ no more. Ya done went an’ let yerself _fall_ fer this girl.”

Daryl wanted to tell Merle to shut the fuck up, but he knew it would get him nowhere. He could neither confirm or deny these accusations.

Mostly because… well. He didn’t even know _how_ to feel. He was pretty certain he wasn’t feeling anything more than lust, but hearing it put like this by his own brother… shit. He hated to admit it—would never admit it aloud—but he was beginning to rethink things entirely.

Still. It didn’t make sense.

Why the fuck would a girl like Beth want anything to do with him past a bit of rough on summer break? She wouldn’t.

She didn’t.

Merle was wrong. Daryl was certain of it.

Besides… he couldn’t go setting himself up to get hurt like that. ‘Cause he already knew that, if she _really_ _wanted_ to, Beth could hurt him like hell.

And he’d probably end up begging her to hurt him a little more.

**to be continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was pretty challenging to write Merle as "happily taken and settled down but still obnoxious," so hopefully he didn't seem too terribly OOC. He's still got some more to say next chapter :)
> 
> Also: this story is currently set to be 12 chapters, but it's already looking like it'll be more like 15~ chapters. Whoops.


	9. goin' through changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Daryl has officially reached the point in his life where he's watching Merle settle down into some serious commitment with a woman, _and_ offer him unsolicited advice on his own love life.  
> Cool. Cool cool cool. This is... fine. Totally normal.

**goin’ through changes**

About an hour into conversing with Merle—and desperately trying to veer him away from the topic of Beth—Daryl felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. But he didn’t dare pull it out to check it. He couldn’t even slip away to take a piss without more taunting commentary from his brother. So he resorted to tossing his phone onto the couch and leaving it there.

He needed to avoid the distraction, anyway. Wasn’t no good reason he should be getting so caught up in whether or not she was messaging him. Wasn’t no good reason he should be giving Merle more ammunition for his dumbass argument.

So what if he left her on Read for a little while? Maybe she’d think he actually had a life. Maybe it wouldn’t be so obvious that he was anxiously anticipating every little taste of her that he could get. He didn’t wanna seem _creepy_ or _infatuated_ , after all.

It took a few more beers and several more cigarettes to finally get Merle off the subject of Daryl’s sex life. But once they were both popping open their sixth or seventh cans, Merle began talking more about Frankie in between bullshitting about work and everything else. And eventually, he got to the other half of what he’d come over to discuss.

“So we been actively tryin’ fer, I dunno, maybe a year now—”

“If you came over jus’ ta brag about how yer givin’ yer girl creampies every night, I’m not interested.”

“Nah nah, I didn’t _just_ wanna brag.”

Daryl rolled his eyes, but kept listening.

Then Merle turned more serious. He stopped laughing and cackling and smirking, and he smoked his cigarette a little more fervently. Almost like he was nervous. Leaning back in the bench and watching the moon rise high in the sky, the last remnants of sunlight disappearing behind the horizon, he began to speak honestly and without any traces of sarcasm or mockery.

“I’ono, jus’… gettin’ kinda _real_ now. Like, shit. She might actually have a kid if we keep this up. An’ then _I’d_ have a kid. And I’m already pretty fuckin’ old, but that ain’t even the part that bothers me most.”

Daryl furrowed his brow and looked over at his brother. “If it bothers you, why’re you doin’ it? Thought y’all discussed this pretty thoroughly before ya started… ya know. _Trying_.”

Merle shrugged, his gaze set on the horizon and his shoulders slack. “We did. But that don’t mean all the doubts go away. Hell, that don’t even mean I’ve stopped questioning the whole concept of settlin’ down.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Daryl admitted. “Never thought you’d pick one woman. Sure as hell never thought you’d try to intentionally knock one up.”

Surprisingly, Merle didn’t even crack a smile. He just shrugged again. “Yeah, well… shit changes, I guess. I’ono. Not ta sound like a faggot, but findin’ the right woman kinda puts everything in a different light.”

Daryl didn’t say so, but he felt like he could relate to that sentiment.

Then Merle added, “‘Sides, I already planned on bein’ in it fer the long-haul with Frankie. Reckon havin’ a baby is jus’ the next step.”

“The next step?”

“It’s a whole other level of commitment.”

“Guess yer right,” Daryl mumbled. He took a sip of beer and ruminated on that thought. “One helluva commitment to make, though.”

Merle sighed. Then he responded matter-of-factly, “In for a penny, in for a pound, little brother.”

Well. That was one way to look at it.

Daryl cleared his throat and asked, “Don’t sound like yer too thrilled by the idea of a kid, though. I mean… ya don’t _have_ to. It’s not an obligation.”

Merle turned his head at that, and met Daryl’s eyes. He gave him a look of incredulity and said, “Never said it was. I wouldn’t do a fuckin’ _thing_ I didn’t wanna do. You know that. What I’m sayin’ is, Frankie makes me feel like I _wanna_ have kids. _On purpose._ ”

“Oh.” Daryl didn’t know what else to say.

Then Merle’s expression flickered with doubt, and he seemed to be contemplating his next words. He took a swig of beer and a long drag off his smoke. Daryl did the same, looking back and waiting for whatever it was his brother wanted to say.

Finally, he let it escape his mouth.

“Ain’t try’na be a buzzkill here, but—shit, Daryl. As much as I wanna knock my girl up an’ raise a kid with her… just the thought of goin’ through with it scares the livin’ _shit_ outta me.”

Daryl couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah. It should.”

Merle waved off his words and said, “Nah, not like that. I mean—yeah, that too, but I’m talkin’ about a _different_ kinda scared.”

Daryl frowned. “Oh. Whadd’ya mean?”

Merle heaved a tired sigh and turned away to stare out towards the horizon. He drained what was left of his beer down his throat and crushed the can in his hand, setting it aside. Then he tossed out his burnt-down cigarette and pulled out a fresh one, lighting it up between his lips and taking a drag. He didn’t turn to meet Daryl’s eyes. Just kept staring out at the treeline and the rising moon.

Finally, he spoke in a tone laced with half-drunk honesty and remorse. “Every time I look in the mirror, I see Pa starin’ back at me.”

Daryl’s breath hitched in his chest, but he didn’t say anything. He stared over at his big brother and listened intently. Watched the way Merle tensed; the way his jaw tightened and his shoulders flexed. The way he smoked his cigarette with a little more desperation.

Merle must’ve felt his eyes on him, because he turned his head and met Daryl’s gaze. “ _That’s_ the part that scares the shit outta me. Downright _terrifies_ me. I don’t wanna be like our old man. Ain’t no kid alive that deserves a daddy like that.”

Daryl swallowed hard and responded, “You ain’t like him. Not at all. Never will be.”

“Yeah, but what if that changes?” Merle countered. “Shit changes all the time… I know that fer a fact. So what if I end up bein’ nothin’ more’an a father? A sperm donor?”

“You really think you’d ever let yerself stoop that low?” Daryl asked.

“I don’t know,” Merle admitted. “That’s why I’m askin’ you.”

Shit. He was… really fucking serious. Daryl was almost too jarred to comprehend what was going on. To figure out how to respond.

Regardless, he sighed and said, with complete honesty, “You might be an asshole, but ya pretty much raised me. An’ my opinion might not be worth a lick, but I think you’ll be _twice_ the dad he ever was—blindfolded, with both hands tied behind yer back. I seen what yer willin’ ta do fer me. So I can only imagine what you’d do fer yer own kid.”

Merle grunted and squirmed in his seat, still frowning heavily.

“‘Sides,” Daryl added. “He gave ya the perfect example of what _not_ to do. Not like yer gonna forget all that shit so quick.”

Merle’s eyes were watery as he took another drag off his smoke.

On the exhale, he confessed, “This kid don’t even exist yet, but just _thinkin’_ about me an’ Frankie’s baby callin’ somebody else Daddy…” He paused, worrying his lower lip. Then he muttered, “I’mma be honest. It makes me wanna _kill_ somebody, Daryl.”

Daryl didn’t know what to say. So he didn’t say anything.

He’d heard his brother say things like this before. With nothing less than murderous intent behind his voice. But this time… it was _different_.

It wasn’t selfish.

Merle cleared his throat and looked away, back towards the horizon. He took a long drag off his smoke and held it in his lungs. As he exhaled, he muttered, “That’s a scary fuckin’ feeling, baby brother. You don’t understand yet, but I reckon ya will ‘fore too long. _Love._ It’s bein’ at somebody’s mercy. Lettin’ somebody have that kinda power over you… If nothin’ else, it’s a whole new kinda thrill, I tell ya what.”

He cracked a smile and glanced over to catch Daryl’s eye.

“But all things considered, even though I’m shakin’ in my boots an’ second-guessing every other thing I say or do… well, _shit_. I’ll be damned if I don’t feel more _alive_ now than I ever have before.” He chuckled. “Wouldn’t trade it fer the world. I’m startin’ ta think this is the rush I was chasin’ after all those years. I’s just too fuckin’ _stubborn_ ta realize it.”

Goddamn. That was quite the confession from Merle.

But he meant it. Daryl could tell. Frankie had sparked something entirely new and unfounded within the brother he’d once thought would never change.

He put the cigarette to his lips and inhaled the smoke deep into his lungs.

And once again, he didn’t say so… but he felt like he could relate to that sentiment.

* * *

It was nearly eleven when Merle finally finished his last beer and decided to leave. Daryl’s head was swimming and he was thinking about how he was gonna regret this in the morning. But for the time being, he was feeling good. And surprisingly, he was sad to say goodbye to his brother.

That is, until Merle cackled and remarked, “Bet yer real tired after stayin’ out all night with yer _princess_. Better catch up on that beauty rest, Darylina.”

Daryl gave him a hard punch to the shoulder, which only proved to make him laugh harder.

He shoved Daryl back playfully and said, “Oh yeah, almost fergot—Frankie wants ta know what yer doin’ this weekend. Should I tell ‘er you’ll be _all tied up_ with blondie?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“No,” Daryl answered flatly. “‘Cause I won’t be. Andrea might be comin’ down fer a couple days. And Rick wants us to double-date with Michonne on Saturday.”

“Where at? The Horseshoe?”

“Yeah, but yer not—”

“I’ll see ya there! What time? Six? Seven? I’ll tell Frankie ta wear somethin’ _tight_. Jus’ ta piss Andrea off.” Merle threw his head back and laughed.

Daryl rolled his eyes, but it was no use arguing. If he didn’t want Merle to invite himself along, he probably shouldn’t have even mentioned his plans with Rick and Michonne.

Andrea wouldn’t be happy, but he’d deal with that later. Frankie’s presence would make things a little easier. He hoped.

After that, the brothers said goodbye. Merle rode away from the cabin on his motorcycle, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. Daryl watched him go.

But all he was thinking about was Beth. 

Goddammit. 

He hated to acknowledge it, but with every sip of beer, he longed for her presence a little more. Yeah, talking to his brother had been a pretty good distraction, but it still wasn’t enough. Nothing ever was. She was always at the back of his head, waiting for his mind to wander over towards thoughts of her. He was downright anxious to be alone again. To grab his phone and text her to his heart’s content without the worry of prying eyes.

Shit. Merle had seen the photos. And videos. And texts. Shit shit _shit_.

Whatever. He wasn’t gonna rat Daryl out. He was just gonna keep hanging the secret over his head and teasing him about it. Which was fine. Daryl could handle that. So long as Merle didn’t go letting anything slip around Andrea. Or anyone else.

Daryl snatched up his phone from where it was still lying on the couch. He unlocked the screen to find a new text notification—the vibration he’d felt earlier and hadn’t gotten the chance to check. And just as he’d hoped, it was from Beth. 

He opened it to find that she’d sent another meme about three hours after her previous two messages had been left on Read. She hadn’t added any message.

It was a picture of Ursula from _The Little Mermaid_ , head tilted back and fingers curled as she laughed like a classic villain, and the text at the top read: _Girls when they see an opportunity to get their man hard in a place he shouldn’t be_

This fucking girl. 

He couldn’t help but smirk. Just as he’d thought, she was the _devil_. And he fucking liked it.

Also… their “ _man_ ”? He wasn’t the type to read too deeply into memes, of all things. But… 

He texted back eagerly.

 _Oh look, it’s you in that meme_ _  
__Lol_ _  
__And just to clarify… yeah. Delicious enough to eat._

He added a tongue emoji and a squirting water emoji. And he found a lollipop emoji, so he added that one, too.

 _You already know, girl._ _  
__Sorry I didn’t answer. Merle came over. He’s nosey af_

Okay. That was enough. He didn’t need to explain himself more, or blow her phone up with texts.

Five surreptitious texts was probably already past the limit of being acceptable. He’d better stop while he was ahead. And just _hope_ that she would answer.

He plopped down on the couch and rested his head on one end, his feet on the other. He turned on the TV, all the while his phone was clutched in his hand. And he tried to focus on something else. Tried to push back thoughts of what Beth might be doing right now, how she and Amy had fared on their road trip, who they might be spending the night with.

He got about ten minutes into a rerun of _Futurama_ before he was lifting his phone and checking it. Like a fucking junkie looking for a fix.

He checked their texts to see that his messages were still _Delivered_ and not _Read_. Maybe she was already sleeping. Or maybe she was preoccupied with something more entertaining.

He exited out of his texts and went on to check social media. But he wasn’t checking for anything other than updates from Beth.

There was nothing on Snapchat. However, when he opened Instagram, he found a new Story from her at the top of his Feed. He eagerly tapped the little circle and watched as her photo filled his screen.

She’d only added two updates to her Story, according to the bar at the top. The first was a short selfie inside Amy’s car, with Amy in the background. Beth was the subject of the photo, though. A sunlit image of her white tanktop, her long blonde hair, and her smiling face. The caption in the corner read: _ROADTRIP!!!_ with a string of girly emojis.

Then a new photo was filling his screen. It was Beth in the foreground again, and Amy in the background, but they were outside the car this time, standing in someone’s driveway. There wasn’t quite as much sunlight, and both girls looked sweaty and tired from the trip. Nonetheless, they were grinning. Beth was still glowing, as she always did. The caption above her and Amy’s faces read: _SAVANNAH, WE’RE INSIDE YOUUUUU_ with another string of girly emojis.

And then her Story timed out and Daryl was sent onto the next new Story. He swiped out before it could fill the screen and eagerly tapped Beth’s circle again. He stared as her images played across his screen once more.

So she’d made it to Savannah. That was good. Amy’s car hadn’t broken down. And Beth was probably either sleeping or… who knew. Hanging out with old friends?

She’d referred to _him_ as an “old friend.” What did that term mean, exactly? Did it take on another definition when it was used to describe your friend’s sister’s boyfriend who you were secretly fucking? Or was it like… a blanket term?

Christ. He was overthinking this. He _knew_ he was overthinking this. Yet he couldn’t stop himself.

He scrolled through social media absent-mindedly for a few more moments. Made sure to check Beth’s finsta—no new updates. He scrolled through his Feed, but there was nothing he really cared about. He got distracted and tapped on his own profile. Just to see what Beth saw when she looked at it.

He hadn’t filled anything out. His Instagram bio was blank, and the only field he’d completed was his name. _Daryl._ That was it.

On a whim, he tapped _Edit Profile_. And as soon as the cursor was blinking in the empty box for his bio, his thumbs hovered over the keyboard with a thousand ideas.

He’d had a whole goddamn discography’s worth of music playing over and over in the back of his mind for the last week. Even more so over the last couple of days. But as he hesitated over that empty text box, there was one particular song sticking out in his head.

Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was the spur of memories. Who knew.

He typed out, _I don’t know where, but she sends me there._

Then he pressed Save and watched as his profile changed. The lyrics filled the previously empty spot in his bio. 

And he was almost certain that no one would notice. Least of all, Beth. He was out of his fucking mind to think she might check his profile the way he checked hers. It was just one of those discreet little details that he could get a secret thrill out of. Like leaving a blatant clue out in the open and knowing no one would pick up on it.

He was already risking it all. What did it matter if he took it just the tiniest bit further?

After all… it was just part of the game.

Beth _liked_ being bad. And he got the feeling she liked it when _he_ was being bad, too.

* * *

Daryl passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow, thanks to all the beers. And he slept soundly, also thanks to all the beers.

But he did not dream quite as soundly.

For what felt like thirty fleeting seconds, he was lying under Beth. They were in his bed, and she was completely nude, riding his hard cock and digging her fingernails into his chest. His hands were grasping her hips, trying to control her movements. But he was powerless beneath her.

She moaned and rode him harder, and fuck, it felt so _good_. She was so wet around his achingly hard dick. Her sharp nails were sending jolts of electricity through his skin. The heat was building and building in his gut, so fucking _intense_. He bucked his hips and thrust up inside her. She keened, high and loud.

Then she was leaning down, and her long blonde hair was in his face, and her hot breath was in his ear. He could feel her lips on his skin; her pussy wrapped around his cock; her hair tickling his face and neck. He could smell her. He could _hear_ her.

“Put a _baby_ in me, Dixon.”

His hips bucked reflexively and his fingers dug into the flesh of her hips. She moaned into his ear.

And then he was coming. Hard and fast.

She was just about to whisper something else in his ear, but he was abruptly jerked back to consciousness.

His alarm was going off. He let out a low groan and opened his eyes.

He had morning wood again. No surprise there. But for some odd reason, his dick was sensitive like he really _had_ just ejaculated. And—

“Aw, what the fuck…”

He felt the wetness first. Then he threw back the blanket and looked down to see the front of his boxers soaked through with come.

A fucking _wet dream_? _Seriously?!_

What the fuck, indeed.

**to be continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't come at me with "wow Daryl should see a doctor if he's having nocturnal emissions at his age" because I KNOW lmao. I'm just having fun. Don't take any of it too seriously.  
> Also... someone asked if it's even possible to get a hickey around your nipple? And Idk?? So let's not think about the realism too much, either ;)


	10. aight imma head out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl's got some serious "cleaning up" to do if he's gonna be spending the weekend with his girlfriend.  
> But hey, cleaning up is easier than damage control.

**aight imma head out**

Daryl was only a mile from his house, on the way to work as the sun was rising higher in the east, when his phone rang. His heart skipped and in his still-groggy haze, he glanced at the screen with high hopes. Then he saw the name and rapidly came back down to Earth.

Andrea.

It was Thursday. It had been a couple days since they talked. He needed to be endearing. And he needed to prepare for whatever she had to say, or whatever plans she might have.

He snatched up the phone and slid his thumb across the screen, holding it to one ear while he kept his other hand on the steering wheel. “Mornin’, beautiful.” He tried to make it sound genuine, but he felt like it came out flat. 

Either way, it seemed to work. Andrea’s voice filled his ear, and she didn’t even sound annoyed. In fact, she sounded downright apologetic.

“Hey, babe,” she greeted. “Are you on your way to work?”

“Yup,” he replied. “Just left the house.”

“Can we talk for a minute? I feel really bad about how we left things the other day. I’ve had time to think about it and—I’m sorry. I _really_ am. I’ve had such a long week at work, and this case has been so stressful. I shouldn’t’ve taken it out on you, though. And… I’d still like to come down tonight. If you wanna spend a few days together?”

Daryl hesitated. But he had no choice.

“Yeah. We can talk. I’m sorry, too.”

* * *

By the time Daryl clocked in for work, he’d already mended things with his girlfriend and made plans to spend a long weekend with her. And the day was only just beginning.

He figured a few days with Andrea would do him some good. What with his head all caught up in Beth lately. He needed the reality check. And who knew? Maybe if he really tried, the weekend could actually be _enjoyable_.

Andrea was planning on driving down after work tonight. She probably wouldn’t show up until later in the evening, but that meant Daryl needed to prepare for her arrival. He’d have to rush home and make sure he was showered, shaved, and presentable. And he needed to do a sweep of the cabin to make sure it was up to her standards. (He should probably also double-check that there was no evidence of Beth’s presence. Just to be safe.)

For the first two hours of his shift, he had to play catch-up with his repairs from yesterday. When he finally slipped outside for a smoke, he pulled out his phone to find the screen half-full with new notifications. He’d received three text messages while he was busy working.

 **_Joe (tattoos)_ ** _1h ago_ _  
__Ya I can do that,, weekend of the 8th is pretty booked up,,, but I got some openings on the 9th if that works..,. It will have 2 be evening time... Lmk_

 **_Andrea_ ** _46m ago_ _  
__I’m so excited to see you, booface. Call me when you get off work xoxo_

 **_Trouble_ ** _22m ago_ _  
__Uh oh. What do you mean Merle is nosey? Doesn’t he already know about us? Hope I’m not causing actual trouble for you :/_

He tapped on Beth’s message first without even thinking about it. Then he eagerly typed out a response.

_Nah don’t worry bout it. Just Merle being Merle._

He sent the message and watched as it changed to _Delivered._ He took a drag off his cigarette and waited for it to change to Read. Because he wanted a reason to send another text. But if she was busy…

When it didn’t change after several seconds, he tapped back to his other messages and typed out casual responses to both.

To Andrea, he said: _Me too. Hope you have a good day. I will call you as soon as I clock out xoxo_

To Joe, he said: _That would be great. What time? Pencil me in for whatever you have available._

And just as he was about to lock his phone and tuck it back into his pocket, a new notification popped up.

Beth.

**_Okayyy well… that’s not very reassuring lol_ **

Daryl went back to her text conversation and responded as fast as he could.

 _Sorry_ _  
__Hard to be reassuring when it comes to my brother. But he won’t tell anybody._ _  
__Just gonna give me hell about it_

He was going to exit out of the conversation and stop himself from sending any more strings of texts. But then his messages changed to _Read_. And the three little dots appeared.

He gripped his phone with both hands.

**_Lol okay, if you say so :)_ **

_How long you gonna be in Savannah ?_

**_We’re planning on driving back Friday afternoon. Why?_ **

_Jw_ _  
__How was the road trip?_

**_Well the car didn’t catch on fire ;P_ **

_Ofc not. I know what I’m doing_ _  
__So it was good? Lol_

 **_Definitely haha_ ** **_  
_** **_We’ve just been catching up with our friends and hanging out. And I stayed up so much later than I should have lol_ **

_Sounds pretty fun_

**_It is haha_ ** **_  
_** **_They’re having a party tonight so I’m sure Amy will be hooking up with somebody before the night is over lmfao that will be realllll fun_ **

She added a rolling-eyes emoji and he wasn’t quite sure how to interpret it.

So Amy would probably be hooking up with somebody… Did that mean Beth would be, too?

He was in no place to ask, though. Didn’t have the balls to even consider asking such a thing.

_Lol more fun than what I’ll be doing_

**_Wdy mean?_ **

_Andrea is coming down tonight_

**_Ah_ ** **_  
_** **_Is that not good?_ **

_Idk_ _  
__But she’s gonna be staying with me til Sunday I think_

 **_Oh okay_ ** **_  
_** **_I can take a hint lol_ ** **_  
_** **_So I should probably resist texting you for the next couple days?_ ** **_  
_** **_;)_ **

_Lol yeah probably…_ _  
__Even tho I kinda wish you still would_

**_But we wouldn’t wanna get caught…_ **

_True_

**_Don’t worry, I’m very well-versed in self control._ **

She added a smiley emoji with a halo.

 _Hmm_ _  
__You’re well-versed in something alright_

**_Pardon?_ **

_Yk what I mean_

**_I’m certain I don’t, Mr. Dixon._ ** **_  
_** **_Anyways, I’ll leave you be. Just text me whenever you start missing me again._ ** **_  
_** **_Jk ;)_ **

_I got hold of my tattoo guy btw_

**_Oh really?? :D_ ** **_  
_** **_So when is our date?_ **

_The 9th. Is that ok ?_

**_Perfect, actually! That’s a Sunday?_ **

_Yeah_

**_Cool. I’ll be free cause the next day is my family’s party lol_ **

_Guess I lucked out_

**_Guess we both did ;)_ ** **_  
_** **_Talk to you soon_ **

She added a kissy face emoji.

His stomach turned and his heart skipped. He couldn’t think of any other way to keep the conversation going without seeming desperate.

So he tossed out the burnt-down filter of his cigarette and sent one last text. Then he locked his phone, shoved it into his pocket, and headed back to work.

_Maybe sooner than you think._

* * *

Daryl sat alone in the break room for lunch. Everyone else, including Dwight, had either taken their lunches early or chosen to go out to eat.

So he was forced to sit in the company of nothing more than his meal and the thoughts inside his head. And the phone sitting before him. 

For a solid ten minutes, he focused on his sandwich. Chewing and thinking about the to-do list he needed to tackle once he got home. Wondering whether Andrea would be satisfied with a quiet weekend inside the cabin, or if she was expecting some kind of romantic gesture. Should he be making reservations or something? Buying flowers? Lighting candles? 

Shit. He kinda wished he could just drive her to the nearest Dairy Queen, buy her a chicken strip basket and a Blizzard, and call it a day. But simple things like that were never enough for her.

Sometimes, he wondered if she even cared about his opinion at all. Because it seemed like they were always doing whatever _she_ preferred, and his preferences were always brushed off as either invalid or “white trash-y.” She never liked his suggestions. Never found him much agreeable at all.

He was offered a more-than-welcomed distraction when his phone vibrated atop the surface of the table. The screen lit up, and Daryl shoved the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth, leaning forward to see who’d texted him. It was Rick.

**_Found a sitter!! We still on for Saturday?_ **

He quickly wiped his hands off and grabbed up his phone to text back, still chewing.

_Yep. Andrea will be here tonight._

**_Can’t wait! Tell her Michonne says hi and that she’s looking forward to catching up_ **

_Sure will_

**_What time you thinking? Maybe 7 or 8?_ **

_That should work. I’ll ask Andrea for sure and lyk_

Rick responded with a thumbs-up emoji.

Oh, yeah. Daryl almost forgot.

 _Btw Merle invited himself soooo_ _  
__Just a heads up_

 **_Oh great._ ** **_  
_** **_Is Frankie at least coming with him?_ **

_Lol yeah_

**_Shouldn’t be too bad then_ ** **_  
_** **_She keeps him in line._ **

_Here’s to hoping_

**_Lmao_ **

Daryl backed out of Rick’s conversation and tapped on the one just below it: _Trouble_. Just long enough to see if his last message had been Read or not.

And it had. Less than five minutes after he’d sent it.

So she was either busy with her friends in Savannah, or she really was stepping back and waiting for him to text her first. Although he was pretty sure she knew he’d be at work until at least five…

Maybe he shouldn’t have said something so soon. Maybe she would’ve kept texting him until he clocked out.

Whatever. Didn’t matter. Why was he overthinking this so much? He wasn’t gonna get anything from some text messages. Or Snapchats. Or whatever. Except more teasing. More torture. 

Fuck. He needed to focus on Andrea.

But he still had several hours to do that. So he told himself that he’d only allow himself to keep thinking about Beth for the remainder of his lunch break. Which would only be the next ten minutes, give or take. And then he’d really have to buckle down and get his fucking head on straight.

Daryl downed the rest of his Gatorade and cleaned up his area, tossing out the trash from his meal. Then he headed out back for an after-meal smoke. He didn’t even bother shoving his phone into his pocket.

While he leaned against the back wall outside the shop and smoked, he checked Snapchat. There was only one new Story from Beth, and it was a selfie with some random girl that Daryl had never seen before. But Beth was looking beautiful, as always. Maybe even more so. There was something about only seeing her through a screen. Knowing he couldn’t see her in person.

Well, he reckoned ya only really want what you can’t have. Maybe that’s what this was.

He moved onto Instagram, where Beth had posted the same photo to her Story, as well as a selfie with Amy and a small group of people—three girls and two guys. When the Story timed out, Daryl tapped back and replayed it, and this time, he zeroed in on the males in the photo.

Squeezed in so close to Beth and Amy. Boyish faces and typical college-guy haircuts. Stupid fucking smiles with stupid fucking perfect white teeth.

He only replayed the Story one more time. Just to make sure neither of the boys were touching Beth too closely. And they didn’t appear to be. But then again, it was just one photo…

With a sigh, Daryl forced himself to stop scrutinizing Beth’s friends. What the fuck did he care who she was hanging out with, anyway? She’d be going back to college and hooking up with her _boyfriend_ again in less than two weeks. Whoever she chose to fuck was none of his damn business.

He wanted to exit out of Instagram completely, but a larger part of him wanted to check one more thing. Just out of curiosity. Not like he expected to find anything.

He tapped on Search and typed in _d_. Before he could press any other key, the first result came up from his recent searches: _d1rty.b1rd_. A second later, Beth’s finsta was filling his screen.

He’d truly convinced himself not to expect anything. So when he saw a new post that hadn’t been there before, his heart both skipped and leapt at the same time.

He tapped on the little square photo and found that it already had 52 Likes. And—oh, fucking _Christ_.

She did _not…_

She did.

It was a filtered photo of her breast, centered on the nipple. There was a dark purple hickey around her areola, and the faintest hint of teeth marks. She’d edited a pink heart emoji over her actual nipple, but the mark was very visible. 

_His_ mark.

Daryl’s breath stuttered and he felt that heat broiling in his stomach again. Blood rushing down to his dick.

Then he saw the caption.

_i wish that every kiss was never ending; oh, wouldn’t it be nice?_

She’d added a trio of emojis: a music note, a pink heart… and a truck.

Fuck fuck _holy fuck_ , was he hallucinating right now?

Was that song not still fresh in both their memories? Had he not just changed his bio to lyrics from the exact same band? From the exact same album that had been playing while they’d—

He quickly exited Instagram. Couldn’t let himself stare at that photo too long, or else he’d be dealing with another half-chub at work.

Couldn’t let himself think on this whole thing too much. On the emojis. On the caption. Couldn’t let himself think on Beth much more at all.

She was _dangerous_. Fucking trouble with a capital T.

Nope. Nope nope nope. Andrea was coming down. Had to be ready for her.

Beth was _not_ his. Never would be.

So why did she keep making him wish that she was…?

* * *

Daryl really did buckle down and force his thoughts to focus on anything and everything besides Beth over the next few hours. It helped that he kept himself busy, and that he and Dwight wound up working on a car together and shooting the shit for a while.

But eventually, his thoughts of Andrea and Beth converged in the worst way. He began to grow paranoid.

What if he’d missed something that Andrea would pick up on? If she had any clue what he’d been doing with a girl half his age… 

With her _little sister’s friend_ , of all people.

_Jesus Christ!_

He needed to cover his tracks. He was pretty sure the cabin was clean, but he’d be sure to do a thorough double-check when he got home. As far as any other evidence—well, it was all on his phone. And he couldn’t exactly trust Andrea not to peek. Or, hell, not to go through it while he was sleeping. She’d done it before. Back when he’d had absolutely nothing to hide except the fact that he’d leant Merle some money. That had turned into a miserable fucking fight. So he could only imagine what kind of fallout he’d be forced to deal with if she happened to see the photos of Beth, or the texts they’d been sending, or even the fucking Snapchat history. 

He contemplated deleting the photos and videos. Then he could go back later and recover them from the Recently Deleted folder. But Andrea would probably check that, too. So he’d have to delete them permanently. Which he _really_ didn’t wanna do. 

Surely, there was another way. Something… _sneaky_.

He kept thinking, and finally decided that he would have no choice but to delete his text conversation with Beth. As painful as that sounded. He would _have_ to. Couldn’t risk it. And he’d have to delete Snapchat for the time being, as well. Andrea would be suspicious that he’d even downloaded it. And he wasn’t sure how to clear all the history on there. He could just download it again later, once she’d gone back to Atlanta.

Shit, maybe he should delete Instagram, too. But that would be weird. She knew he had an account, and she actually preferred that he post pictures of them together. For whatever stupid reason. He’d never put much thought into it.

 _‘Women and their damn social media,’_ he’d assumed. Just like Merle had always said.

Nowadays, that assumption was taking on a whole new meaning for Daryl. 

He decided he’d have to go in and figure out how to clear his history on Instagram. Just in case Andrea got _extra_ nosey. Couldn’t be too careful.

Oh, and that fucking text conversation with Merle from their night at the bar. Shit.

There were little breadcrumbs of Beth everywhere. Was Daryl even catching them all?

One thing he could be grateful for: Andrea wouldn’t question any long blonde hairs she found around the cabin.

Damn. He was kind of awful for thinking that, wasn’t he?

Whatever. He’d already jumped right off that edge and plunged into depravity. He was a piece of shit. He knew that. But he’d always been. So what was the difference now? 

During his last smoke break of the day, he pulled out his phone and texted Beth.

_Don’t make fun of me for asking, but… you know how I can save all these pics and vids without keepin em on my phone ?_

* * *

For nearly 30 minutes after Daryl had clocked out, he sat in the driver’s seat of his truck, parked in the shadowy area of the parking lot with his phone clutched in both hands. He was following the very specific instructions Beth had sent.

He downloaded an app she’d linked him to, created an account—and made sure it was **_set to private!!!_ ** Then he made sure to create a password that was hard to guess.

**_0000 does not work for an actual password!! Lol_ **

He used his mom’s birthday. Because no one else could remember it, not even Merle.

Then he uploaded all the screenshots, pictures, and videos he had of Beth. Double-checked that they were marked as private. Moved the “secret” app to a discreet spot in his phone, hidden amongst a bunch of apps he never used. And finally, deleted all the pictures and videos from his phone’s Library. Permanently.

After that, he went to his Home screen and deleted the Snapchat app. Then he spent a few minutes figuring out how to clear his search history on Instagram. Which included deleting his DMs with Beth.

That one stung, seeing as the very first DM to start the whole thing was in there—the one he’d drunkenly sent in reply to the bikini pic on her Story. Which felt like forever ago, somehow. Yet at the same time, just like yesterday.

But it was kinda fucking weird to want to save something like that for a fuckbuddy. So yeah, it was due time to clear it out. And he double-checked to ensure there wasn’t some hidden section for deleted DMs.

Finally, he went to his Notifications Settings and unchecked the option for new notifications to show previews on the lock screen. 

Once that was all taken care of, he texted Beth back.

_Gotta delete Snapchat for the weekend_

**_Good idea lol_ ** **_  
_** **_You are a little too old to have it ;P_ **

_Gee, thanks for reminding me_

**_I just mean… it’d be pretty obvious why you have it. Lol_ **

_I know what you mean lol_ _  
__Trust me. Already thought of all that._

 **_Well, you’re an observant guy. I’m sure you aren’t missing anything_ ** **_  
_** **_;)_ **

No time to overthink that. He was already running late.

 _Hope not_  
 _I’ll ttyl beautiful_ _  
Heading home to get ready for the gf_

Fuck. Fuck fuck _fuck_ , why had he added “beautiful”?!

So unnecessary. So… fucking on a whim. Like his thumbs just took over and typed out the first thing that came to mind.

Shit. Fuck. Fuck shit! He was letting himself panic. He really _was_ antsy as hell.

**_Good luck, handsome_ **

She added a kissy face emoji.

Fuck— _what?!_ Goddammit. 

**_I hope she sleeps sometime._ **

_She does._

Okay. Couldn’t let himself overthink or type anymore. Needed to get on the damn road.

Jesus.

Needed to call Andrea.

He started up the truck, phone still clutched in his left hand. He glanced over once more to see that his last message was Read. A few seconds passed and the typing dots didn’t appear. 

Okay. Time to let go.

He tapped back to his text messages and slid his thumb across _Trouble_. Then he hit that ominous red button. 

He deleted their entire conversation. 

Andrea was his _girlfriend_. She was the one he’d committed to. She was the only one who saw any sort of potential for a future in him. He couldn’t fuck this up. Not for a fling with some (incredibly gorgeous) college chick. Not for _anything_.

No matter what his dumbass brother said.

Now that he was facing reality head-on, he wasn’t so sure he really wanted to risk it all. What the fuck had he been thinking?

Daryl did one last swipe and tap in order to delete his text conversation with Merle. Then he quickly locked his phone and set it in the cupholder. He focused on shifting the truck into gear and backing out of the parking lot. And he kept his eyes on the road as he began the drive home.

He didn’t turn the radio on. But he did pull out a cigarette and start smoking.

He didn’t grab his phone until he was already halfway to the cabin. And when he did, he called Andrea.

She picked up on the third ring.

“Hey, babe,” she greeted. “You just leave work?”

“Yeah. On my way home now, babe. What time should I expect ya?”

**to be continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know y'all hate Andrea, but please forgive me. It has to happen.
> 
> Also, Idk about anyone else, but I get sentimental about my text convos. It always kinda hurts when you have to delete a conversation with someone you really like(d). So that's what I was going for here lol
> 
> Oh, and Joe is a boomer, so I tried to make his text seem boomer-ish with the wording and punctuation lmao


	11. are you up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intoxicating. Unforgettable. Trouble. _Relentless._  
>  All words that Daryl would use to describe Beth Greene. And all used with nothing less than the utmost admiration.

**are you up**

Despite his better instincts, Daryl allowed himself to indulge in just the _tiniest_ bit of Beth once he got home.

It wasn’t hurting anything, he reckoned. It was just music. Nothing more than a Beach Boys album on the record player. Who could blame him for enjoying some oldies every now and then?

After he took Dog for a shorter walk than usual, he did a sweep of the cabin while The Beach Boys echoed around him. And yeah, he really fucking shouldn’t have been, but he was thinking of Beth.

Mostly… of that new post on her finsta. That photo he couldn’t get out of his head. The caption and the stupid fucking emojis.

Goddamnit. Andrea was gonna be here in less than two hours.

He sprayed Febreze throughout the whole cabin, double-checking that there were no stains or stray pieces of clothing he’d missed around the bedroom. Scoping out the living room and kitchen and bathroom for lingering traces of a seemingly innocent church girl. All the while, that finsta caption replayed in the back of his head. And then the song came on.

It filled his ears like a taunting reminder. Why the fuck had he thought it was a good idea to put this record on?

_“…wouldn’t it be nice if we could wake up, in the morning when the day is new? And having spent the day together, hold each other close the whole night through…? And happy times together we’ve been spending, I wish that every kiss was ne-e-ever ending… oh, wouldn’t it be ni-i-ice…”_

He gave up halfway through his final inspection of the living room—he and Beth hadn’t spent much time in here, anyway—and stepped over to lift the needle of the record player. The music stopped abruptly and he was left with silence.

Which was fine with him.

He put the vinyl away and turned on the TV. Just for the sake of some background noise.

Then he headed to the bathroom for a shower and a shave. 

But on the way in, he stopped to put his phone on the charger. And he took a minute to sit down and reset the unlock code.

He couldn’t think of anything else, so he decided on something that he knew neither Andrea or Merle, or anyone else, would guess.

_0810_

Well, anyone else but maybe _one_ person.

That was his own little secret, though.

* * *

Right before he hopped in the shower, Andrea called to let Daryl know that she’d finished packing and was on her way. So he shaved and cleaned up as best he could, slipping on some clean sweatpants and a T-shirt that didn’t have any holes in it—because she hated when he wore wifebeaters, and she hated all the raggedy old shirts he liked to sleep in.

Then he decided it would be a nice gesture if he cooked dinner and had it ready when she arrived. He was starving anyway, so he just made twice as much as he usually would.

He was still cooking when she arrived.

“What’s cookin’, good-lookin’?” She greeted as she stepped through the door, suitcase in hand.

“Hey, babe. Yer just in time.”

He flashed her a warm smile from where he stood in front of the stove, even though the sight of her made his stomach turn. He wasn’t sure why. He was anxious. Seeing his girlfriend in person again—for the first time since he’d started… _fooling around_ —was a little jarring. Made his heart beat a little faster. Made him sweat. He couldn’t help but wonder if there was something about the place that she would notice. Or if she might just read it on his face. See it in his eyes.

But she was perfectly pleasant. For some reason. She did look pretty tired, so maybe it was just exhaustion turning her into a softer person. 

Dog was not happy about her arrival. He didn’t walk up to greet her. Didn’t even want to be in the same room. As soon as she closed the door behind her and rested her suitcase against the couch, he slunk off to the bedroom to hide away. 

Daryl tried not to put too much thought into it.

“Ya hungry?” He asked, turning off the stove and lifting the pot he was currently stirring to move it over.

“Starving,” she replied. “Did you wait to cook dinner just for me?”

No. He just hadn’t had time to eat before because he was busy cleaning the whole cabin and making sure there was no evidence of Beth’s presence. But—

“Well, yeah. Figured ya might like a home-cooked meal after workin’ all day an’ driving down here.”

“Aw, you’re so thoughtful.”

Hm. She was being _really_ nice… 

Then she walked into the kitchen and approached him from behind while he was preoccupied with straining pasta. She slipped her arms around his middle and leaned in to kiss him softly on the side of his neck. 

He shivered, but it wasn’t a _good_ shiver. She couldn’t tell the difference, though. He tried not to tense up at her touch.

Why the _fuck_ was he tensing up at her touch?

This was his _girlfriend_. They were committed. He was supposed to _long_ for her embrace. Or whatever.

But it just felt… weird. Kinda wrong. He couldn’t explain it. Not even to himself.

Maybe he was starting to feel guilty. Shit.

She hummed against his skin and rested her chin on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his middle and hugging him tight. “I’m so tired. I was thinkin’ we could just eat and watch a movie. What d’you think?”

Daryl grunted. “Think that sounds good. I’m pretty tired, too. Gotta get up for work early, anyhow.”

“We might not make it through a whole movie then, huh?” She giggled and slowly pulled away to let him work.

“Prob’ly not,” he replied without turning around.

“God, we’re getting old,” she laughed.

 _Don’t remind me,_ he thought.

“Shit. Yeah, we are. So what movie ya thinkin’?”

* * *

Daryl and Andrea ate their dinner on the couch, and Andrea was sure to complain about how he _really_ needed to invest in a dining table. Instead of starting an argument and asking her where exactly he would put said table in such a small place, he just grunted and agreed and focused on eating.

After that, she went to the bedroom and set her suitcase out, then she changed into pajamas and returned to her place beside him on the couch. They cuddled up together and continued watching the movie they’d put on. Some shitty rom-com that Daryl had no desire to watch, but he’d already known any of his movie suggestions would be shot down, so he suffered through. 

He tried to focus on Andrea. On being a good boyfriend. On running his hands through her hair and letting her rest her head in his lap. He tried to let himself grow comfortable around her. But it still felt… just _weird_. He didn’t know why.

True to her word, she fell asleep halfway through the movie. He remained where he was and finished watching it. But as soon as the credits started rolling, he gently nudged her awake.

“C’mon babe, let’s go ta bed.”

She made a sleepy sound of agreement and pulled herself up. He shut off the TV, and a few moments later, they were retiring to the bedroom within a completely dark cabin.

They took their usual sides of the bed. She plugged her phone into the charger and set it atop the nightstand on her side, and Daryl did the same on his own side. Then they were collapsing into bed and snuggling close together beneath the covers.

Andrea turned her head and gave him a soft, lingering kiss on the lips. He kissed her back, but he closed his eyes and tried to ignore how she tasted. It wasn’t the same as before. Her lips were nowhere near as sweet as Beth’s.

Couldn’t be thinking about that. Couldn’t let himself get to that place.

Aw, fuck. What if she wanted to have sex? Could he still get it up for her?

But, nah. They usually only had sex once when she visited. If she was “in the mood” at all.

And to his relief, she hummed sleepily and wrapped an arm around him, nuzzling into his chest and getting comfortable. “‘Night, baby.”

He cringed inwardly. _Baby._ He wasn’t her baby. Never wanted to be. Never had been. Never would be.

He’d never much liked it when she called him that. 

“‘Night.”

Barely five minutes later, she was sleeping peacefully against him. Her breathing was steady and her whole body was limp. But he was still lying awake. Unable to really relax.

Thinking about Beth? _No._

No, definitely not.

Well… maybe. Just a little.

 _Fuck._ This was gonna be a long weekend.

* * *

Daryl tried to relax. He really did try.

And he managed to drift off eventually. For short bouts of time. 

He also tried not to let his mind wander back towards thoughts of Beth. He really did try.

But she kept popping up. To the point of downright torture.

He was just torturing _himself_ , though. This had nothing to do with Beth. Not really. It was just telling him more about how he truly felt towards his girlfriend. Whether he was ready to accept any of that or not. Whether he was prepared to face the truth or just keep putting it off for a later date.

Stupid fucking Merle and his stupid fucking words were rolling through Daryl’s mind nonstop. Why the fuck did his dumbass brother have to be so… _nosey_?

And why did he have to think so deeply about this shit when he was trying to sleep? It was so goddamn counterproductive. 

He wound up squirming around, tossing and turning. Andrea drifted over towards the other side of the bed, turned away from him and remaining dead asleep. She’d begun snoring, and that was keeping him awake, too. Every time he managed to fall asleep, it only lasted for about half an hour, and then he’d get pulled back to consciousness by a particularly loud snort. Or just from the reflexive tensing of his own body.

He fell asleep around 2 am, letting his eyelids flutter shut as he stared at the clock on his nightstand. But it only lasted for half an hour.

Andrea’s snoring was echoing off the bedroom walls, and he drifted back into restless consciousness. His muscles tightened and he squirmed, resituating himself in bed. He glanced over at the clock and saw that it was nearly 3 in the morning.

Goddamn. He needed to get to sleep and _stay_ asleep. He had to be up for work in less than four hours. And he was _so_ fucking exhausted.

Then his phone vibrated. The screen lit up, casting a bluish glow across the pitch black bedroom.

Even in his half-groggy haze, his heart leapt. 

Nah. Couldn’t be her.

He didn’t give himself the chance to contemplate otherwise. Like maybe it was Merle or something. No. He was fully hoping it would be _her_ name on that screen.

He reached out and snatched up his phone, pulling it closer. He squinted against the bright light, but as soon as his eyes adjusted…

 **_Trouble_ ** **_  
_** _Text Message_

His heart pounded in his chest. He glanced back over his shoulder to see the shadowy lump beneath the blanket that was Andrea, snoring away. Unmoving. Completely unaware.

Without a second thought, he unplugged and unlocked his phone and opened Beth’s text message. A brand new conversation. Her little blue bubble set against the white background.

**_Are you up?_ **

That was it. No emojis, no other message. 

How the fuck could he resist?

_Shouldn’t be but yeah_

A split-second after his message was Delivered, it switched to _Read 2:44 am_. And then the gray bubble with the three typing dots appeared. He held his breath until her response arrived.

**_I’m assuming you’re alone ?_ **

_Lol she’s asleep_ _  
_ _Very very asleep_

 **_Well I sent you a snapchat oops_ ** **_  
_** **_Lol_ ** **_  
_** **_Forgot you had to delete it_ ** **_  
_** **_So pls ignore that when you download it again ;P_ **

She was typing fast. He could barely keep up. He waited until the animated dots disappeared to reply.

 _Well shit_ _  
_ _Now I’m intrigued._

**_I’m sorry_ **

_For what??_

**_I shouldn’t be bothering you rn_ **

Fuck. Okay. This was, like… a _thing_.

And something about it didn’t feel completely right when he was literally lying a foot away from Andrea.

He slipped out of bed as quietly as he could, phone still gripped in his hand, and crept out of the bedroom. He glanced back to ensure that Andrea was still sleeping soundly and undisturbed. She was. Dog perked his head up to see what was going on, but he seemed too sleepy to care, and just laid back down and resumed snoozing. 

Daryl slipped out onto the porch, where he sat down in the rickety old chair and grabbed his smokes. With his heart thumping wildly, he lit up a cigarette and went about texting Beth back while the moon shone down from above and the sounds of a humid summer night surrounded him.

 _Shouldn’t be doin a lot of things_ _  
_ _Hasn’t stopped us yet lol_

 **_LMAOOO_ ** **_  
_** **_Damn Dixon_ **

_Just saying_

**_Still_ ** **_  
_** **_I feel kinda bad_ ** **_  
_** **_Idk_ ** **_  
_** **_Why are you awake anyway??_ **

_Idk can’t sleep_ _  
_ _What else is new_

 **_Lol oh_ ** **_  
_** **_Well_ ** **_  
_** **_I’m a little drunk :P_ **

_Oh_ _  
_ _So this is a drunk text…_

**_Hahahaha stfu_ **

_You text pretty well for being drunk tbh_

**_Autocorrect is my best firend ;)_ ** **_  
_** **_Shit_ ** **_  
_** **_Until now I guess lmao_ **

_Nice lol_ _  
_ _You okay tho?_

**_Wdy mean??_ **

_Like are you safe?_ _  
_ _Being drunk like this wherever you are_

 **_Oh lol_ ** **_  
_** **_Yes I’m comepletly safe_ ** **_  
_** **_No worries there_ ** **_  
_** **_Gosh thx for your concern tho :)_ ** **_  
_** **_Such a gentleman_ **

_Relax_ _  
_ _I was just makin sure_ _  
_ _Doesn’t make me a gentleman all of a sudden_

He added a rolling eyes emoji.

 **_All of a sudden lol_ ** **_  
_** **_You’ve BEEN a gentleman_ ** **_  
_** **_But whatever_ ** **_  
_** **_I won’t argue with you :P_ **

_Lol okay if you say so_ _  
_ _Where’s Amy?_

 **_I just kinda was missing you is all…_ ** **_  
_** **_Oh Idk in the other room passed out I think_ **

Wait—what? She _missed_ him?

_Missin me huh ?_

He didn’t know what else to say. Didn’t have the balls to say, “I been missing you, too.” Even if she was drunk.

 **_I mean yeah kinda :)_ ** **_  
_** **_And ya know… That_ **

She added a string of tongue emojis, and a string of eggplant emojis.

Oh. Right. That’s what she meant.

 _Lol jeez, Greene_ _  
_ _You really are a little freak_

**_Just like… low key ;)_ **

_High key for me tho, right_ _  
_ _?_

 **_Ummmmmmm_ ** **_  
_** **_Obviously :))_ ** **_  
_** **_It’s not like your gf is doing all the freaky shit we do lol_ ** **_  
_** **_Btw are you gonna fuck her this weekend?_ **

Daryl blinked. Reread the message. Blinked again. What the fuck— 

But then the typing dots appeared and she sent another text within seconds. And another. And another. And another.

 **_Omg jk jk jk_ ** **_  
_** **_Hahahhaha_ ** **_  
_** **_Sorry I really should put the phone down and go to bed lmfao_ ** **_  
_** **_I didn’t mean to ask that_ **

She added a string of crying laughing emojis, as if that would distract him from what she’d just asked.

But… no way. No fucking way. 

Throughout the years, Daryl had learned that ‘a drunk mouth speaks a sober mind.’ It seemed to apply to most people, anyway.

But did it still apply when it came to texting? Could it apply to Beth, too?

And if so, why did she care whether he was gonna be fucking Andrea or not?

 _Sorry Idk how to answer that_ _  
_ _I wanna say no. But I can’t_

 **_No seriously pls forget I even asked lmao_ ** **_  
_** **_I shouldn’t have texted you at all tbh I’m rly sorry_ **

Part of him wanted to ask if _she’d_ be fucking anyone this weekend. But that would be weird. Right?

Yeah. It’d be really weird. And he didn’t have the excuse of being drunk to make it seem… _not_ weird.

 _Nah it’s okay_ _  
_ _She’s gotta sleep sometime._ _  
_ _Just hope you’re safe over there._

 **_I am :)_ ** **_  
_** **_You really are such a gentleman tho_ ** **_  
_** **_Idk if your gf realizes what a catch you are_ **

_Haha very funny_

**_??_ ** **_  
_** **_I’m being serious lll_ ** **_  
_** **_Lol*_ **

_Okay well_ _  
_ _Just funny to me I guess_

 **_Yk what’s FUNNY_ ** **_  
_** **_Your new insta bio ;)_ **

Holy fuck. She noticed? She _noticed_!

Maybe he wasn’t as discreet as he thought. Or maybe she was checking his profile like he checked hers…?

_Huh?_

**_Lol don’t play dumb Dixon ;P_ **

_Yeah I changed it_ _  
_ _So what_

 **_So it’s cute_ ** **_  
_** **_I like it_ **

She added a string of heart-surrounded smiley emojis.

_Thought you might._

More smiley emojis. A tongue emoji. An eggplant emoji. Squirting water. And a pink heart.

_So you was creepin on my profile…_

**_Yeah a little ;) what’re you gonna do about it lol_ **

But then, before he could respond:

 **_Srsly tho_ ** **_  
_** **_I don’t wanna get you in trouble…_ **

_? You won’t._

**_I might_ ** **_  
_** **_Never know_ ** **_  
_** **_Andrea isn’t dumb_ **

_Yeah I know._ _  
_ _Don’t gotta remind me._

 **_Sorry I’m not trying to make you feel bad_ ** **_  
_** **_I just keep thinking about you_ ** **_  
_** **_And omg I’m so excited for the tattoos!!!_ ** **_  
_** **_Do you know what you’re gonna get??_ **

He wanted to tell her that he’d been thinking about her, too. But he wasn’t sure it would be well-received, even in her current state. And it seemed that she was eager to change the subject, anyway. Or like she was just saying so because she was drunk.

He couldn’t read too much into it. Didn’t mean anything. She was just a drunk college chick.

Just a summer fling.

 _Lol idk yet_ _  
_ _Wbu? Got some ideas?_

 **_A few :)_ ** **_  
_** **_I’ll have to get your opinion before I commit tho lol_ ** **_  
_** **_Gotta ask the expert_ **

_Haha expert. Yeah right_

**_You’re the expert in my eyes :P_ ** **_  
_** **_So get over it lol_ **

_Feeling’s mutual, I guess_

Holy shit, had he really just allowed himself to type that out and send it? _Christ._

He took a long drag off his smoke and held it in his lungs as he watched the three little dots do their flashdance.

What the hell was he thinking? He needed to back off. He needed to go back inside and lie down next to his girlfriend, and— 

**_Ummm pardon?_ ** **_  
_** **_What does that mean exactly??_ ** **_  
_** **_Lol_ **

_Nvm_

**_Ugh you’re killing meeeee_ ** **_  
_** **_Imyyyyy_ **

She added a string of crying face emojis.

But before he could type out a response, she sent another message.

**_Maybe after she goes back to Atlanta we can… you knowwww……._ **

Did she _really_ miss him? Did she really wanna see him again so soon?

He didn’t know how else to reply.

 _Lol_ _  
_ _I won’t say no_

 **_Good ;)_ ** **_  
_** **_I didn’t think you would lmao_ **

_You saying I’m easy?_

**_As easy as me lol_ **

_You’re not easy_

**_I am for you._ **

She added a shrugging emoji. As if that would lighten the weight of what she’d just said.

He had to remember she was drunk right now. All of this could mean nothing. Just because most people spoke unfiltered while drunk didn’t mean _Beth_ did.

Besides, he wasn’t even sure that rule applied to text messages.

_Now who’s killing who… ?_

**_Lol_ ** **_  
_** **_Oh :)_ ** **_  
_** **_My bad…_ ** **_  
_** **_Except not really :P_ ** **_  
_** **_Sorry not sorry hahaha_ **

_Unapologetic huh_ _  
_ _You’re cold as ice, princess._

 **_Jfc_ ** **_  
_** **_Don’t even get me started_ **

She sent a string of tongue and squirting water emojis.

He couldn’t help it. His dick twitched in his pants and he had to resituate in the chair. He tossed out his burnt-down cigarette and gripped the phone with both hands, heart still racing.

This girl was like a fucking _drug_.

 _Don’t get me started either_ _  
_ _I gotta get some sleep before work_

 **_Oh yeah sorry :)_ ** **_  
_** **_I shouldn’t be keeping you up_ ** **_  
_** **_And I’ll make sure not to text you anymore till after the weekend’s over_ **

He began to type out a response, but she sent another message before he could.

**_Just lmk when she’s gone, I guess…? ;)_ **

His breath stuttered and he erased what he’d been typing. He created a new message and sent it.

_Already planned on it._

**_Get some sleep, Dixon._ ** ****_  
_**_And try not to think about me too much ;)_ ** **_  
_** ******_Jk hahahah_**

_Lol you too._

**_No promises… :)_ **

Jesus fucking Christ.

His hands were still trembling when he finally returned to bed.

And even though he’d deleted their text conversation and plugged his phone back in, he kept opening his eyes and glancing at it. Half expecting—half _willing_ —it to vibrate again. To light up with a new message from Beth.

All the while, Andrea was fast asleep on the other side of the bed.

Shit. What had this summer fling turned into?

What the fuck was he _doing_?

And more importantly… what the fuck was (the seemingly pure and innocent) Beth Greene making him _want_ to do?

**to be continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No offenses to snorers but that shit is A N N O Y I N G  
> So glad I found a man who doesn't snore lmfao
> 
> And if you didn't catch it, Daryl changed his phone password to Beth's birthday. ;)


	12. ice princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth is so good at playing it cool, even when she’s inebriated.  
> And Daryl is so… not good at playing it cool. Ever.

  
[cover photo courtesy of [Obsidianr0se](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obsidianr0se/pseuds/Obsidianr0se)]

**  
ice princess**

Andrea slept in while Daryl got up and got ready for work. He was making his best effort to keep his mind off Beth, but his head was still a little foggy and he hadn’t slept very well. Regardless, he wasn’t about to risk checking up on her while Andrea was nearby.

She woke up shortly before he headed out for the day. And then he was standing in the doorway, lunchbox, coffee thermos, and keys in hand, and she was standing in front of him, pressed close to his chest. She leaned up and kissed him on the lips. When she pulled away, she smiled up at him.

“So you’ll be off at five, right?” She asked.

“Should be,” he said.

“Okay, good. ‘Cause I was thinkin’ maybe I’d call up that restaurant in the city and make a reservation for seven or eight tonight.”

“Oh. Like a date?”

“Yeah, _of_ _course_ like a date.” She rolled her eyes and reached up to brush some hair off his forehead.

“What restaurant?”

“The one we love. Don’t you remember?”

Oh. Right. The one _she_ loved. The one she’d dragged him to on their second official date, and kept dragging him to for every stupid anniversary or birthday or special occasion. Or just when she craved their overpriced food.

“Oh, yeah. I remember. Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“You think you can make it home in time to shower and get there by seven?”

He shrugged. “Don’t see why not.”

Her smile widened. “Perfect! Well, I guess I’ll just keep myself busy with work while you’re gone. A day off is never really a _day off_ for me.”

“Alright. Jus’ text me if ya need anythin’.”

She gave him another peck on the lips. He tried not to wince away.

Then Daryl was heading out the door, stepping out into the humid morning air and the bright, hot sunlight. But as soon as he’d stopped beside his truck, fumbling with all the things he was carrying while also trying to open the driver’s side door, Dog bounded across the yard and stopped at Daryl’s feet. He sat down, ears perked, and gazed up at Daryl with a look that said, _please_ _don’t leave me here with her._

Daryl scoffed and reached down to scratch Dog’s head. “‘S alright, I’ll be home ‘fore ya know it. Be good, boy.”

He turned to open the door, but Dog leapt up and put his paws on Daryl’s arm, and Daryl grumbled in frustration and pushed him off.

“C’mon man, yer gonna make me drop my coffee,” he scolded. “‘S only a few hours. Go rabbit huntin’ or somethin’.”

Dog huffed out a whiny breath and stood up to walk away. Daryl finally got hold of the doorhandle and pulled it open, setting his things inside the cab before climbing in himself. He pulled his keys out and started up the truck.

And as soon as he shifted into Drive, he heard a _scritch-scritch-thump!_ from the bed of the truck. He’d already put his foot on the gas and begun driving towards the gravel road. He craned his head around to look back.

Dog had jumped into the bed of the truck at the very last second. And now he was sitting proudly in the corner, close to the rear window, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. He met Daryl’s gaze with a look that could only be interpreted as, _what’re you gonna do about it?_

“Goddammit, Dog.” Daryl sighed and turned back around to focus on the road. “Guess yer comin’ ta work with me, ya stubborn asshole.”

He wondered if Andrea would even notice Dog’s absence.

* * *

It was far from the first time Daryl had brought Dog along to work with him. In fact, Daryl’s pet was even more popular than him.

Dog had a whole fanbase at the shop. Mostly thanks to the fact that during the first six or seven months he’d begun living with Daryl, he’d suffered from terrible separation anxiety, and Daryl feared he would make a break for the woods one day and disappear entirely. So Daryl had brought Dog with him to the shop every day. Once they’d grown more comfortable and Dog became loyal, that wasn’t necessary, but Daryl still found reasons to bring him in. Like for holidays, or his birthday, or Dog’s birthday, or the receptionist’s birthday, or some other coworker’s birthday, or just because the receptionist was having a bad week, or because a particular customer was scheduled to come in and their kids happened to be part of Dog’s vast fanbase. And sometimes, Dog would make the decision himself, and hop into the truck before he could be told no.

So it wasn’t a big deal when Dog came trotting along at Daryl’s heels into the shop. He had a bush that he preferred out by the side of the garage. And there was always plenty of water and dog treats (and table scraps) available for him. As soon as Daryl clocked in and walked through the lobby towards the garage, Danielle squealed with delight, and Dog got his first dose of attention and ear scratches for the day.

Damn dog was gonna have a head the size of Jupiter by the time they left.

Daryl worked on catching up with all his appointments from the day before while Dog lounged in the corner of the garage and watched everyone work. He was too busy to step out for a smoke, and he figured he wouldn’t catch a break until lunchtime at this rate.

About an hour before lunch, he and Dwight were working on a car together. Bullshitting about everything besides their relationships.

But of course, the otherwise casual conversation switched over when Daryl least expected it.

“So ya said yer plannin’ on goin’ out tomorrow night, right?” Dwight asked.

Daryl didn’t lift his head or look at the other man, too indulged in his work. He merely grunted in confirmation. “Why?”

“That means you could put in some overtime tonight, yeah? ‘Member I told you me an’ Sherry are goin’ down to Savannah for the weekend? We’re wantin’ ta hit the road kinda early.”

Daryl stopped what he was doing and turned his head to look at Dwight. “I remember, but no, that don’t mean I can stay tonight. Andrea’s waitin’ for me at home. She’s makin’ dinner reservations an’ shit, I can’t work late. Sorry.”

Dwight scoffed, frowning. “She’s already in town? Shit. I didn’t know.”

“Yeah. And she’s got plans for us tonight. I ain’t try’na piss her off.”

“God forbid.” Dwight rolled his eyes. “Fuck me an’ Sherry’s plans, I guess. Just ‘cause yer bitchy girlfriend wants ta make some last-minute fuckin’ reservations—”

“Watch yer fuckin’ mouth,” Daryl snapped. He shot Dwight a glare, but it was barely acknowledged.

“I’m just sayin’, man. I tried ta like her, but the other weekend was the last straw. Sherry was _not_ impressed with Andrea’s li’l scene at the bar. That shit ain’t cool.”

Fuck. This again. How was he supposed to keep defending her?

“She’s still my girlfriend.”

Dwight tossed his wrench aside a little harder than necessary. “Exactly. _Girlfriend_. Not _wife_.” He reached for a different tool and muttered, “But, ya know… whatever. It’s your life.”

Daryl tried to focus on his work, but his hands and arms were tensing up. “Yer a passive-aggressive asshole, ya know that?”

“Yeah, I know. An’ I don’t care. If you love ‘er, you love ‘er. It’s fuckin’ whatever, man.”

“Got yer panties all in a bunch over _my_ love life, all of a sudden? Worry ‘bout yerself.”

Dwight chuckled humorlessly. “All’m sayin’ is, she’s too old ta be actin’ like some melodramatic college chick. We’re not twenty-five anymore, dude. It’s time to let that shit go.”

Daryl didn’t want to. He tried to stop himself. But it was the first thought that popped into his head: _The only college chick I know doesn’t act like that. Probably wouldn’t ever act like that. And she’s not even twenty-five yet._

Obviously, he did _not_ say that. Didn’t dare speak anything even _close_ to that.

Andrea was his girlfriend. He needed to defend her. Even if he was _exhausted_ with defending her.

“She’s got a lot on her plate. Y’all don’t realize how much stress she’s dealin’ with. So she lashes out sometimes, big deal. So do I.”

“Nah, you _don’t_ , though. You just keep it all in till ya explode—that shit ain’t healthy, man. Just like it ain’t healthy to keep makin’ excuses for Andrea’s inexcusable behavior.”

“ _Inexcusable behavior?_ Oh, fuck off.”

“Whatever. I’m serious, though. You _know_ it’s inexcusable.”

Daryl fumed. “The hell you try’na say? That I should _dump_ her? Y’all don’t wanna hang out with us no more?”

“I did _not_ say you should dump her. But… nah, I don’t think we’re gonna be doin’ any more double-dates,” Dwight said, with his usual blunt honesty. “No offense. But Sherry was _awful_ pissed, and it wasn’t even the first—“

Daryl shoved himself away from the car and cut Dwight off. “I _get_ it! Jesus Christ. Jus’ shut the fuck up already.”

Dwight put up his hands in surrender and shook his head. But he was smirking knowingly. “Fine. I’m shuttin’ up.” He resumed working on the car, unfazed. “I _said_ , no offense,” he muttered.

Daryl just grunted and stomped away, heading straight for the back door.

He needed a fucking smoke.

* * *

He avoided checking his phone all morning. Besides the fact that he was too preoccupied with everything else, he didn’t want to tempt himself into misbehaving.

But then lunchtime came. And he sat down and ate, all the while ignoring the phone in his pocket. Had he felt it vibrate a time or two? He couldn’t tell. Might’ve just been the weight shifting when he moved. 

Andrea. Their date. Andrea. The restaurant. Andrea. The cabin and his bed that he shared with his girlfriend. Beth, drunk, texting him, sending him a Snapchat after midnight—no, _Andrea_.

He stepped out back for his usual after-lunch cigarette, leaning against the wall while Dog trotted around in the grass a few feet away and eyeballed the birds in the trees. And despite every logical part of his brain telling him to resist, Daryl gave in and pulled his phone out.

No new notifications. Not even a text from Andrea. Surprising, but somehow relieving.

He opened Instagram and found a new Story from Beth at the top of his Feed. His heart skipped and he tapped on it.

The screen of his phone was filled with an image of Beth for five wonderful seconds. She was wearing another tight outfit—a red halter top and black jean shorts. No bra. And she was smiling with comical uncertainty, a shot glass in her hand. Amy was standing behind her, grinning and holding a shot glass of her own, and those two boys from the other photos were standing around them, as well as that other girl. They all had shot glasses full of clear liquid. Beth had added a caption in the corner: _Hair of the dog??_

The timestamp read _1h._

Damn. She’d just gotten drunk the night before, and she was already drinking again? Before noon?

Did that mean he could look forward to some more drunk texts? Maybe?

Nah. C’mon. That was stupid.

Nonetheless, he exited Instagram and—just real quick—downloaded the Snapchat app. Logged in. Checked his conversations.

Sure enough, just as she’d said, there was an unopened Snap from Beth. From _10 hours ago_.

Daryl paused, his thumb hovering over the screen of his phone while he took a drag off his cigarette and glanced around. He was still alone out back of the shop. There really wasn’t any _need_ to make sure. It wasn’t like Dog was gonna go telling anybody that Daryl was secretly using Snapchat on his breaks at work.

Then he tapped on the pink square beside Beth’s name. He watched intently as a photo that was very clearly meant for _his eyes only_ filled the screen.

For ten whole _glorious_ seconds.

It was a selfie. From just below her chest up to her lively blue eyes. She held her phone at a crooked angle from above, and she was winking. Grinning. Her tongue sticking out playfully, red-tinted from whatever fruity booze she’d been drinking. She had one finger hooked on the top of her white tanktop, pulling it down just enough to reveal her breast. Even though it was focused in the lower corner of the photo, the dark hickey around her nipple was obviously the focal point.

And she’d added a little caption of text in the upper left corner: _Can’t stop thinking about you… wonder why ;P_

Fucking. Christ.

Daryl shifted where he stood and tapped Replay as soon as the Snap timed out. Without a second thought, he took a screenshot. 

Goddamn. Just couldn’t help himself. He wanted to have a future reference whenever he thought about how he’d marked her.

When the Snap timed out for the second and final time, he typed into the Chat bar.

_Damn girl_

He added three fire emojis.

But her Online icon didn’t appear, and he didn’t expect it to.

He took a brief moment to check the Feed. Of course, there was a new Story from Beth. When he tapped on her circle, he found it was actually a _few_ updates.

One was a picture of the same people from her Instagram Story, but it was from 12 hours ago. They were all smiling and holding up red Solo cups. Beth’s cheeks were already flushed pink. The caption across the bottom of the photo was just a string of party emojis. 

The next photo was a playful selfie with Amy. The timestamp said it was from 11 hours ago. Both girls were obviously drunk, posing in a goofy stance and sticking their tongues out. The caption above their heads said, _MY BITCHHHHH!!!_

The final addition to Beth’s story was a short video, all shaky and filled with background noise and muffled rap music. One of those dumbass boys was doing a keg stand while a bunch of other college-age kids cheered him on. The other boy was holding him up by the legs and trying not to buckle under the weight as he laughed drunkenly. The video ended, and the only trace of Beth was her cheering and giggling from behind the camera.

Her Story ended and sent him onto the next. He quickly exited out of the app. Then he deleted it again.

That was enough. He needed to limit himself.

Of course, he took a few extra seconds to upload that new screenshot to the private file within the secret app he’d downloaded per Beth’s instructions. Then he deleted it from his Library and permanently erased it from the Recently Deleted folder. 

Feeling satisfied, he locked his phone, tossed out his cigarette butt, and headed back inside the shop.

* * *

He didn’t get the chance to take another break until barely two hours before his shift was over. Which also meant he hadn’t had the chance to so much as pull his phone out. 

When he finally did, he was surprised to find a new notification on the screen. And it wasn’t Andrea.

No. It was _Trouble_.

One new text message that had arrived _1h ago_. His stomach turned and his heart skipped, and he tapped to open up their—once again—brand new text conversation.

**_You at work?_ **

He knew it was a longshot even as he typed it out. What were the chances she was still paying attention to her phone? He’d only sent the Snapchat reply because… well, how could he not? But that had probably given her the go-ahead to text him. And she probably wouldn’t even see his reply until he was clocking out. Which would leave no time for them to talk.

But he texted back anyway.

 _Until 5_ _  
_ _You ok ?_

He waited a few seconds. Read back over his response. Began to second guess himself. Prepared to lock his phone and put it away.

And then _Delivered_ changed to _Read_. And the three little typing dots appeared.

He froze, phone grasped tightly in one hand.

 **_Lol yeah_ ** **_  
_** **_Saw you replied to my snap :P_ ** **_  
_** **_I told you to ignore it !!_ **

_How was I supposed to ignore that??_ _  
_ _Not fair_

**_Well… ;)_ **

_You drinkin again?_

**_Maybeeee lol so?_ **

_Jw_

So these messages didn’t mean anything. She was just having fun. Too wrapped up in her summer vacation, her little spur-of-the-moment road trip with Amy, her fun catch-up with old friends. Just being spontaneous and crazy by taking shots before noon and drunk texting her fuck buddy.

He was still gonna play along. A little bit. While he had the chance.

**_Aren’t we not supposed to be talking right now? Lmao_ **

Seemed like she wanted to play along a little bit, too. While they had the chance.

 _Probably not_ _  
_ _But I’m at work for the next couple hours_ _  
_ _And you started it_

**_That’s fair ;)_ **

_That was a nice snap you sent_

**_Is that why you took a screenshot? Lol_ ** **_  
_** **_Hope you deleted it ;P_ **

_Saved it for myself._ _  
_ _I’m not stupid._

 **_I know you’re not :)_ ** **_  
_** **_So how’s work going?_ ** **_  
_** **_And your gf?_ **

_Not bad. All around_ _  
_ _Bearable I guess_

 **_Hm same here_ ** **_  
_** **_Haha_ **

_Wym?_

**_Idk just wish you were here ;)_ **

_How come?_

**_Lmao for real??_ **

_Huh_ _  
_ _?_

 **_Ugh_ ** **_  
_** **_Don’t play dumb now, Mr. Smarty Pants :P_ **

_Oh I’m not_ _  
_ _Just curious_

 **_Is it really so hard to believe that I miss you??_ ** **_  
_** **_Lol_ **

She added a couple kissy-face emojis and _Christ_ , if his heart wasn’t damn near leaping out of his chest.

What the fuck was he supposed to say back? How the hell could he play it cool under these circumstances?

Well, he had to remind himself that she was inebriated. She was just texting to text. Just saying things.

Things she would probably regret once she was sober and back in town. Though he hoped she wouldn’t.

 _Kinda_ _  
_ _Don’t see why you would_

**_Oh okay. I see how it is_ **

She added a rolling-eyes emoji and a crying laughing emoji.

**_You really gonna try to tell me you don’t kiiiiinda miss me, too? ;P_ **

_Guess if we’re being honest…_

**_Lol have we not been honest this whole time ??_ **

Another crying laughing emoji. He was starting to get the feeling that she was adding them for the sake of trying to lighten the mood. Or trying to deflect from the meaning her words could hold.

No. He needed to stop thinking like that.

She was just some drunk college chick. It was just a fling. It was just a _game_.

Right?

Maybe he could play along without really _playing_ along.

 _I have._ _  
_ _Idk about you…_

 **_Very rude :(_ ** **_  
_** **_Thought I already proved that I mean what I say_ ** **_  
_** **_;)_ **

_Lol oh_ _  
_ _You did._

**_Yeah so…??_ **

_So I miss you too_ _  
_ _Fucken_ _  
_ _A lot._ _  
_ _Happy?_

 **_Lmao yes :)_ ** **_  
_** **_Feel bad for your gf tho_ **

_Cool_ _  
_ _Makin me feel guilty now_ _  
_ _Lol_

 **_LOL no_ ** **_  
_** **_I was just saying_ **

_Why would you feel bad for her?_ _  
_ _Is this your way of telling me we shouldn’t be doing this no more?_

He really fucking hoped not. Didn’t even really want to say that part. But he _had_ to say it. He needed clarity.

Besides, he was already expecting Beth to cut it off at any given moment. He’d already pushed things _way_ too damn far. He was so sure—

Then the three little animated dots appeared and he held his breath. He slowly exhaled as her rapid string of messages arrived.

 **_Omg no ?!_ ** **_  
_** **_Well_ ** **_  
_** **_Trchnucally we shouldn’t be_ ** **_  
_** **_But who cares lol_ ** **_  
_** **_I just feel bad cause I know you’ll be thinking about me while you’re with her ;)_ **

_Damn_ _  
_ _You really are cold as ice, princess._

**_Maybe a little_ **

She added a grinning devil face emoji.

Okay. So she wasn’t even playing by her _own_ rules anymore. Or was she?

He didn’t know. Wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret all of this. Because it seemed too good to be taken at face value.

And she was drinking. He had to remember that. She was just talking shit.

Nonetheless, he couldn’t help himself.

_Guess we’re even then_

**_Wdy mean?_ **

_I was startin to feel bad for your bf too_

**_Lmao oh yeah?_ ** **_  
_** **_Why? ;)_ **

_Cuz you’ll be screamin my name while he’s fucking you_ _  
_ _Bet he won’t know what to think_

**_OMG_ **

She immediately sent a string of crying laughing emojis.

 _Nvm I know what he’ll think…_ _  
_ _“Who the fuck is daryl?”_ _  
_ _Gonna break that poor boy’s heart, Greene._

 **_You are the WORST!!!! lmfao_ ** **_  
_** **_But I kinda love it_ **

More crying laughing emojis.

Daryl was feeling bold. Even through text, this girl managed to bring out a whole new side of himself that he’d never really explored. A side he’d never allowed to take control.

Yet right now, he couldn’t _stop_ that side from taking control. Even if he wanted to.

 _I know you love it_ _  
_ _Saw the way you was gettin off from a sucker yesterday_

 **_LMAO_ ** **_  
_** **_Well not JUSR a sucker ;)_ **

_So you admit you were wet ?_

**_Never denied it_ ** **_  
_** **_I already know you were hard ;P_ **

_Ha ha so fun to torture me huh_

**_Yes_ ** **_  
_** **_Yes, it ir._ ** **_  
_** **_Is*_ **

She added a smiley emoji with a halo.

_Guess that meme was accurate_

**_In more ways than one ;)_ **

Wait—what did _that_ mean?

He began typing out a response, but she was typing, too. So he stopped and erased it.

Don’t push it too far. Play it cool. Even if she’s a little drunk.

 **_Now I reallyyyyy miss you_ ** **_  
_** **_Send n00dz ;D_ **

_Lol what_

**_Go to the bathroom or something and send a dick pic!!!!_ ** **_  
_** **_Pleeeeease :)_ **

_Umm_ _  
_ _I’m at work_ _  
_ _And aren’t you supposed to be driving back with Amy today ??_

 **_Lol she’s sleeping off the booze rn_ ** **_  
_** **_We’re gonna leave in a few hours_ ** **_  
_** **_And I know you’re at work!! It’s our last chance all weekend, dummy ;P_ **

Fuck. This was ridiculous.

Wasn’t it?

He couldn’t be slinking off to the bathroom and jerking off while sexting with Beth. He was _at_ _work_. And he was supposed to clock out and head home to his girlfriend in less than three hours. 

But… goddamn. If he wasn’t tempted.

To the point of agreement. Because how the fuck was he supposed to say no to Beth?

(Not to mention, his cock was already half-hard in his pants, and he kept resituating himself as he texted back, his cigarette long forgotten and tossed out several moments ago.)

_You’re a bad influence_

**_Is that a yes? ;)_ **

_It’s not a no…_

He was just about to turn and start walking towards the door, phone still gripped in his hand, but the door opened and Dwight stuck his head out. He did not look pleased.

“Oh, there you are, _Your Grace_. You done with yer leisurely second lunch yet? I got a customer in here askin’ for ya.”

Daryl heaved a sigh. “Yeah, yeah. I’m comin’. Gimme a damn second.”

Dwight rolled his eyes and went back inside, letting the door fall shut.

Daryl glanced back down at his phone to find that Beth had texted again.

**_Ooh you’re so bad ;D gimme gimme gimme_ **

He frowned as he texted back.

 _Shit_ _  
_ _Sorry but I gotta get back to work_

**_Awww really??_ **

_Yeah Dwight is pissed cuz I already took too long on break_ _  
_ _Sorry_

 **_No it’s okay I understand :)_ ** **_  
_** **_To be continued… lol_ **

_Definitely to be continued_

**_I’ll still be thinking about you tho ;)_ **

_Jfc girl_ _  
_ _Ain’t you tortured me enough_

 **_Lol not quite…_ ** ****_  
_**_Get back to work, Dixon!!!_ ** **_  
_** ******_I’ll see you soon :)_**

_If I’m lucky._

His last text was left on Read.

**to be continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clear up any confusion on the timeline: the series started in late July, we're currently about to enter August. Beth's birthday is on the 10th and she's leaving for school on the 11th.  
> Oh, and the dog paragraphs were totally unnecessary and a bit irrelevant to the plot, but... we just need more Dog, okay? Sometimes I like to include my own little headcanons for this universe, and that was one of them.
> 
> And I changed the chapter expectancy again. Bear with me lmao the more I get into this, the more I want to write for it. And I still plan on including another big, fat smut chapter before it ends.


	13. between the lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl's no mind reader, especially when it comes to women. But maybe he could start trying to figure out what Beth's thinking by paying attention to all the signs.  
> The signs are there, alright. He's just not sure he has any fuckin' idea how to read 'em.

  
[oc meme courtesy of [Obsidianr0se](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obsidianr0se/pseuds/Obsidianr0se)]

  
**between the lines**

Daryl tried to work a little faster and help Dwight catch up as best he could for the remainder of their shift. He didn’t take any more breaks, not even to piss. But once 5 o’clock rolled around, all it earned him was a displeased grunt and a scowl as he headed for the door.

Whatever. He could deal with Dwight being mad. He’d rather _not_ deal with Andrea being mad.

Besides, by the time Monday rolled around, Dwight would be over it. Andrea, on the other hand, would hold it over Daryl’s head for the next few months.

He didn’t check his phone until he’d already clocked out, grabbed his thermos and lunchbox, and headed for the truck. Dog trotted after him, pausing just long enough to take a shit in the grass by the parking lot. Daryl waited by the tailgate, lowering it in preparation for Dog, and pulled out his phone.

There was only one new notification, and it was a text from Andrea.

**_Made the reservation for 7:15 so you have a little extra time to get ready xoxo_ **

He quickly texted back.

 _Sounds good. Thanks babe_ _  
_ _Clocking out now_

But he didn’t wait to see if his message was Read. He backed out and revisited the conversation with Beth from earlier.

His last message was still left on Read. And even though he didn’t want to, he backed out and deleted the conversation. 

Couldn’t talk to her for the rest of the night. Or the rest of the weekend. Couldn’t allow himself to be tempted.

Dog bounded up and leapt into the bed of the truck, startling Daryl back to reality. He shut the tailgate and climbed into the cab, where he plopped down in the driver’s seat and tossed his thermos and lunchbox into the passenger seat. He put his keys into the ignition, but he didn’t start the truck up yet. He hadn’t even locked his phone. It was still gripped in his hand.

He held it before him, grasping it with both hands.

Couldn’t text Beth. Or message her at all. Even though he really wanted to. But he could get one last glimpse—one last update on what she was doing—before he pushed her out of his head for the next couple of days.

He opened Instagram and found exactly what he’d been hoping for: a new Story update from _greene.with.envy_.

He tapped on the little purple-and-pink bordered icon, and a short video from 1 hour ago filled the screen of his phone. There was a small caption in the upper right corner that read, _Heading back home while I’m still a lil drunk lmao OOPSSSS_ with an emoji that kinda looked like a drunk face, as well as a crying laughing emoji.

The video was pretty much all Beth, of course. She was in the passenger seat of Amy’s car while Amy was driving, and the radio was playing and both girls were singing along. Amy was focused on the road while she laughed and sang, and she looked pretty tired and hungover despite her cheery demeanor. But Beth was focused on the camera in her phone, and the song playing loudly around her. She seemed to be a little tipsy. Maybe a little drunk. And she was glowing and grinning and belting out the lyrics in a less-than-ideal singing voice.

Nonetheless, it was fucking _music_ to Daryl’s ears. And he’d always hated Taylor Swift.

_“—ohh, I remember you drivin’ to my house in the middle of the night, I’m the one who makes you laugh when ya know yer ‘bout to cry, and I know your favorite songs, and you tell me ‘bout your dreams! Think I know where you belong, I think I know it’s with meee-e-e-e! Can’t you see that I’m the one who understands you? Been here all along, so why can’t you seeee-e-e-e-e?! You belong with—”_

The video ended rather abruptly and Daryl was sent onto the next new Story. He immediately swiped back to replay Beth’s short Story.

Fuck. He _swore_ he’d hated Taylor Swift’s shitty music.

But goddamn… if that particular song wasn’t hittin’ _different_ right now.

Okay, okay, okay. He could allow himself just a _little bit_ more of Beth. While he was here. Before he put his phone down and ignored it for the rest of the night.

Just—he couldn’t _help_ himself. He’d skimmed over her hundreds of past posts without really giving them the study they deserved.

(He wasn’t about to admit to himself that he was seeking some sort of fix he already knew he couldn’t get without talking to her.)

Fuck. He just liked the sound of her voice. The melodic lilt, the faint accent, the sugary-sweet tone. The way it rang in his ears and rattled his bones and made him shiver. The way it made his heart beat a little quicker, and the blood rush a little faster throughout his entire body. And he was pretty sure she’d posted a few videos on her page at one point or another.

She certainly liked to sing, and he certainly liked _hearing_ her sing. Maybe others did, too. Maybe she knew that.

It only took him about thirty seconds of scrolling through her page to find a video. It was pretty far down, buried beneath the photos of her college boyfriend and the New Orleans scenery, past the point where he’d stopped scrolling during his first exploration. He saw that it was posted well over a year ago. The caption read: _Been working on a cover of my parents’ song. Reminds me of my mama_. There were some music note and heart emojis, as well as several hashtags, like _#icrossmyheart_ and _#acoustic_ and _#girlswhosing_ and _#georgestraitcover_.

He tapped the Play icon and turned up the volume on his phone until it was as loud as it would go. He watched with wide eyes as Beth from almost two years ago strummed an acoustic guitar and sang.

So she played guitar, too. He should’ve known. He’d glimpsed all the photos of guitars and pianos, and he’d seen all the poetry and lyrics she used as captions or Stories. How had he not known? He felt like he was missing some huge part of her personality. He’d been too damn enthralled with her surface appearance. He hadn’t been reading between the lines like he should have.

‘Cause he was starting to think that Beth only ever spoke honestly _between_ the lines. (Or within Snapchat messages and Instagram stories that would fade away after 24 hours; within DMs and text messages that could easily be deleted.)

For one minute and thirty seconds, he listened to her angelic voice reciting the lyrics to a classic love song. Needless to say, her pitch was perfect when she wasn’t half-drunk.

And he studied everything she did, from the placement of her delicate fingers on the frets, to the way her blonde hair brushed across her shoulders as she tilted her head back ever so slightly. The stretch of her exposed neck, all pale and porcelain. The perfect pink of her lips; how they wrapped around every syllable as though it were a Tootsie Pop. As though she were seconds away from pressing her hungry mouth against someone else’s.

_“…from here on after, let’s stay the way we are, right now. And share all the love and laughter, that a lifetime… will allow. I cross my heart, and promise to… give all I’ve got to give, to make all your dreams come true… In all the world, you’ll never find—a love as true, as mine…”_

Something about the way Beth sang that song made it hit different. _Real_ fucking different.

Then again, she had that kind of effect on everything. Whether it be music or memes or social media or his own fucking _dreams_.

Daryl stopped himself from scrolling any further, even though he really wanted to keep looking. He was sure she’d posted more videos. He wanted to indulge himself in everything that was Beth Greene; wanted to search through and catch all the little hints she’d left, and read between all the very thin lines. Also… he wanted to hear her voice _so badly_.

Christ.

But there was no time for any of that. He needed to get home and start getting ready for a fancy dinner date with his girlfriend.

So he exited Instagram and double-checked to make sure he’d deleted any lingering traces of Beth. Then he locked his phone, started up the truck, and began the drive home.

But the whole time, he was thinking about Beth. Remembering how she sang. Ruminating on why the hell she’d chosen that damn Taylor Swift song to post to her Story. Admonishing himself for overthinking again.

 _She was drunk. Having fun. Playing games,_ he told himself. _She was drunk. Having fun. Playing games._ Over and over and over.

None of that shit mattered anyhow.

He needed to focus on the _girlfriend_ who was currently waiting for him at his house. Not the college chick who played guitar and sang love songs and was surely about to ghost him any day now.

* * *

Andrea drove her own car to the restaurant because Daryl had told her last year that his truck couldn’t make it farther than Senoia without overheating. (It was no longer true—he’d replaced the water pump and the cooling system months ago, which fixed the problem. He just didn’t tell her because he really didn’t want to end up driving to Atlanta and back every. damn. weekend.) They made it with time to spare for their reservation.

The rest of the night passed by in a blur. Daryl was anxious and uncomfortable the whole time. Tense and on edge. He tried not to squirm, but he really hated wearing a suit. Hated being in such a swanky place, where he so clearly didn’t fit in. Where Andrea was scrutinizing how he sat, how he ate, how he talked. He hesitated before he spoke, and reworded what he said at least three times before he let it escape his mouth

He left his phone at home, just in case. Though it did nothing to alleviate his distractions.

Andrea didn’t seem to notice. She was too busy talking about herself, and quizzing Daryl about his recent activities as though it were an interrogation. He got the feeling she was searching for any opportunity to catch him slipping up. So he measured all of his responses and played along to the best of his abilities.

Like walking on eggshells. Or, more accurately, broken glass.

When all was said and done, it wasn’t such a terrible evening. He’d certainly had worse. 

At least he had a belly full of good food, even if it was overpriced. And Andrea seemed happy enough. She talked herself hoarse, mostly about work and her boss and the case she was currently wrapped up in. And they shared a few laughs here and there, so that was nice. She’d even asked the waiter to take a photo of them at the table as a couple. Daryl put on a tight-lipped smile and hoped it looked genuine.

She immediately posted the photo to her Instagram with the caption, _Date Night_ and tagged him in it. Then she made a very passive-aggressive remark about how she wished he’d cut his hair because he looked like a “hobo” in all their photos.

He tried not to think about how Beth liked to grab his “hobo” hair—and how he really didn’t wanna cut it. Not for any particular reason. Just because he didn’t want to.

Later on, throughout dessert, Andrea ended up drinking too much wine. She’d always been a lightweight when it came to alcohol. Especially wine. So Daryl had to drive them home.

She got giggly and goofy on the ride, but he didn’t mind because it was an improvement on her usual demeanor. She pulled him close at a stoplight and took a selfie with her phone as they shared a kiss. He tried not to cringe when he saw her posting it to Instagram from the corner of his eye.

She calmed down and began drifting off throughout the rest of the drive. And by the time they reached the cabin, she was close to passing out.

Shit. He hadn’t even brought up their plans with Michonne and Rick. And the addition of Merle and Frankie. Fuck. She was gonna be pissed if he dropped it on her at the last minute.

But she was already past the point of comprehension tonight, so he really had no choice. He could only hope saw that the promise of seeing Michonne would make her less angry.

With a sigh of resignation, he parked her shiny BMW in the grass beside his beat-up old truck and went about guiding her into the cabin.

He kinda hated himself for it, but he was hoping she’d fall asleep soon.

* * *

Sure enough, Daryl barely had time to change out of his suit before Andrea was stumbling out of the bathroom, stripping off her dress, and collapsing into bed. He brought her some cold water and laid out a couple of aspirin on the nightstand. She was already starting to snore, so he tucked her in beneath the blankets and turned on the fan. Then he slipped out of the bedroom and shut the door tightly behind him.

And finally, he could _breathe_.

Or at least, that’s what it felt like. Probably wasn’t what it was _supposed_ to feel like, but how would he know? They didn’t fight all night, so this was going pretty damn well. All things considered.

He hadn’t dared step away to smoke a cigarette all evening, and Andrea hated when he smoked in her car, so the first thing he did was step out onto the porch and sit down in his chair with a cigarette. The night was still humid, but it was starting to cool down a bit since the sun had disappeared a couple hours ago. He sat and relaxed under the glow of the moon, letting the nicotine rush to his head as his muscles untensed for the first time all evening.

Halfway through his smoke, he pulled out his phone. ‘Cause what else would he do? Andrea was dead to the world. And he wasn’t even close to being tired enough to sleep yet.

And… yeah. He was thinking about Beth. Wondering what she was doing. If she’d made it home safely. If she was still awake. So what?

He contemplated texting her for a moment. But then he thought, better not. They’d already spoken today. And what if she was still drunk? He wasn’t sure he wanted to risk sending a dick pic while his girlfriend was asleep in the other room, and he already _knew_ Beth would ask for a dick pic. Or _something_. She’d tempt him into misbehaving. And he didn’t have the willpower to say no. He knew that much for certain.

He figured checking her social media would suffice. Maybe he’d scroll through some more of her old posts and try to do a little _reading between the lines_.

He wasn’t gonna make the effort of downloading Snapchat and logging in just to delete it again, so he settled with Instagram. When he opened the app, a tiny bubble appeared to let him know he had 2 new notifications. He ignored it, focused entirely on catching a glimpse of Beth.

Luckily, there was a new Story from her at the very top. And right below that, at the beginning of his Feed, was a new post from her.

His heart skipped in anticipation and as he took a drag off his cigarette, he scrolled down to view the post first. It was 10 new photos, and he swiped left to view them all. He found that they were mostly the photos from her Stories over the last couple of days. Beth and Amy. Their friends in Savannah. A couple more college kids Daryl didn’t recognize.

The caption read, _Roadtrips. Old friends. Hangovers. I love y’all._ And a string of party emojis and a heart emoji. And she’d added a single hashtag: _#hotgirlsummer_.

He had no fucking clue what that meant, but whatever. He guessed it meant she was having a good summer despite the humid Georgia heat. Which it looked like she was. None of the boys in the photos seemed to be too close or too handsy with her. So that was relieving. 

He moved onto her Story, tapping the pinkish-purple-bordered icon and watching as a new photo filled his screen for about ten seconds. The timestamp in the corner said, _2h._ And it was Beth. All Beth.

She’d taken a selfie from above as she lay in bed, showing only half her face, her torso, and the waistband of her shorts. Her blonde hair was splayed out beneath her head, and though her eyes were bright blue as always, the rest of her face said that she was tired. But what Daryl couldn’t help focusing on was what she was wearing: nothing more than a little black bralette and matching black shorts. He could see her bare tummy, her hip, that beauty mark between her breasts. So many inches of her skin that he already knew were silky soft to the touch. The hickey on her neck was faded away now, but he knew the other one was still there, hiding beneath the fabric of her bralette.

Damn. He was _really_ missing her.

But once again, he had to remind himself: ya only want what ya can’t have.

She’d added a little caption in the corner of her selfie that read, _Time to sleep off this hangover (and all my regrettable decisions lol). Busy day tomorrow!_ And there was a pink heart emoji and a sleepy face emoji. 

He wanted to send a DM and ask what she had planned for her Saturday. And what did she mean by _regrettable decisions_? But if she’d posted that 2 hours ago, she was most likely already fast asleep.

Besides, her weekend plans weren’t none of his business. He was gonna be busy, too. With his _girlfriend._

Oh, and his brother. _Fuck_. That reminded him… maybe he should have a talk with Merle. Just to assure that they were on the same page.

Right before he exited Instagram, he tapped on his notifications and checked out the photos that Andrea had tagged him in. She rarely posted anything to her account, so most of the posts on her page consisted of either her and her sister, her and her parents, or her and Daryl. Every once in a while, she’d post a selfie in one of her pants suits. He found both photos from their evening together: the one at the restaurant, _“Date Night.”_ And the dimly-lit one inside the car, which she’d captioned with _“I love this man.”_

And then he saw the Likes.

 _Liked by_ **_greene.with.envy_ ** _and_ **_4 others_ **

What the fuck. Beth was following Andrea?

He did a quick check of Andrea’s Follower list.

Yup. Of course she fucking was. They were old acquaintances. Beth had known Amy since fucking high school.

Jesus Christ. He should’ve known to expect this.

And of course, since both of Andrea’s photos were posted within a couple of hours of each other, Beth had Liked the other one, too. 

Was this her way of keeping up appearances? Or was she taunting him through Likes?

He didn’t think it was in a _vindictive_ kinda way. Because as bad as Beth Greene seemed to be, he couldn’t imagine her being vindictive. She was bad alright, but not like _that_.

But it still felt like she was sending a message. Though what the fuck that message could possibly be, he had not the slightest clue.

Fuck this. He couldn’t be worrying about this shit. He had much bigger problems at the moment.

Like the woman asleep in his bed. The brother he’d have to stifle tomorrow night. The impending argument with his girlfriend that he’d surely have to evade.

He closed out of Instagram without even Liking the photos himself. Then he lit up another cigarette, poked his head into the cabin to make sure he could still hear Andrea snoring from the bedroom, and shut the front door tight. He stepped off the porch, cigarette dangling from his lips and phone gripped in his hand. He walked over towards his truck, putting a fair amount of distance between himself and the window to his bedroom, and leaned against the tailgate.

A moment later, he was holding the phone to his ear and listening to it ring. Once. Twice. Three times.

On the fourth ring, Merle picked up.

Before Daryl could say anything, Merle greeted with, “Uh-oh, what’d Sugartits do now? Do I gotta come pick ya up?”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “No, asshole. We actually had a pretty nice fuckin’ night together, believe it or not.”

“I’m _not_ gonna believe it, and you can’t _make_ me,” Merle quipped. “Don’t even tell me she dragged ya to that hoity-toity restaurant in the city again.”

Daryl didn’t say anything. 

“Yeah, thought so,” Merle cackled. “You pussy-whipped bitch. Y’told me you fuckin’ _hated_ that place—said ya’d never go back!”

“Love makes ya do crazy things,” Daryl muttered.

Merle laughed. Loudly. “Is that what we’re callin’ it now? Shit.”

“Y’know, you really gotta stop bein’ such an asshole if yer gonna come with us tomorra night.”

“‘Fraid I can’t do that. It’s the core of who I am. You know that, Daryl. C’mon now, why you try’na stifle yer comedic relief?”

“ _Comedic relief_ ,” Daryl murmured, scoffing. “All you cause me is problems. Never relief.”

“Nah, I’m not in the relief business. That’s _Beth’s_ job.” Merle barked out a laugh that stung Daryl’s ears.

“That doesn’t even make se—“ Daryl stopped himself and huffed out an aggravated breath. “Listen, that’s exactly the kinda _fuckery_ I wanted ta talk t’you about. You need ta fuckin’ _cool it_ with the comments, man. Andrea’s gonna pick up on that shit.”

“Wow. So you _didn’t_ call jus’ ta have a nice chat with yer only living blood relative? Consider me offended,” Merle taunted. “An’ here I was thinkin’ we was _friends_.”

“Fuck off, I’m serious. You keep runnin’ yer mouth like that, yer gonna put my ass in hot water.”

“Alrigh’, now I really _am_ offended. The fuck kinda brother would I be if I went an’ ratted you out? Ya callin’ me a snitch? ‘Cause I did _not_ do three years in the pen jus’ ta be called a fuckin’ snitch. You _know_ I was innocent, but I —“

“Shut the fuck up. I’m _serious_. I know y’already told Frankie.”

“No, I didn’t!” Merle paused. His tone softened and he added, “Well, mighta mentioned that you was gettin’ some college strange on the side. But I didn’t name names!”

Daryl groaned. “You tell Frankie fuckin’ _everything_.”

“No shit. That’s part’a bein’ in a _healthy_ relationship, jackass. This bitch is my best friend, right after you. No homo.”

“I know, shut up. But I’m _fucking serious_ , Merle. You can’t be makin’ those comments an’ droppin’ hints an’ shit. Andrea’s not dumb, an’ you already know she’s got trust issues.”

“Oh, she’s got _issues_ alright. Even Helen Keller could see that. But what the fuck you so worried for, dickhead?”

“What? Why _wouldn’t_ I be? You think I wanna deal with that shit?”

“Deal with _what_ shit? It’d solve all yer problems! She finds out yer cheatin’, gets pissy, dumps you, ya ain’t ever gotta talk to ‘er again—done an’ done! Just’ like that. Easy peasy, lemon-fuckin’-squeezy, baby brother.”

“That wouldn’t solve shit. It’d cause a whole bunch’a other problems. She might dump me, but she’s fuckin’ _vindictive_. The fallout wouldn’t end there. Y’already know she’d find out who I was fuckin’ around with, an’ then she’d do everything in her power to make their life _hell_.”

“Ah, _there_ it is!” Merle chuckled all too smugly. “So yer worried ‘bout blondie. Wha’samatter, Darylina? ‘Fraid the dirty ol’ redneck might _sully_ her perfect li’l church girl reputation?”

“Yeah. Actually,” Daryl admitted without hesitation. “That’s _exactly_ what I’m afraid of.”

Merle was silent for a second longer than normal. Then he muttered, “Well, fuck… Seriously? ‘Cause I was just kiddin’, ya know.”

“Well, I wasn’t. This is _serious_ , Merle. I can’t have you slippin’ up.”

“ _Ohhh_ , I get it. Yer scared’a Old Man Greene comin’ fer yer balls with a chainsaw. Reckon Maggie wouldn’t be too happy, neither—she’s got one helluva left hook, I tell ya what! Better watch out fer that one.” He cackled.

“I ain’t fuckin’ scared’a none’a that,” Daryl murmured. “But Beth—she don’t need ta be havin’ that kinda shit goin’ around about her. Y’know how this town can talk. She don’t deserve all that drama.”

Merle scoffed. “Who fuckin’ cares? All these folks _do_ is talk ‘cause they ain’t got nothin’ better to do with their pathetic fuckin’ lives. Who gives a shit what they say about y’all?”

“ _I_ give a shit,” Daryl growled. “And so does Beth. So just keep yer fuckin’ mouth shut tomorrow. _Got_ it?”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ— _fine_ ,” Merle conceded, heaving an exaggerated sigh of exasperation through the phone. “You really know how ta suck the fun outta everythin’. Fuckin’ _fun-sucker_.”

“Yeah, that’s my specialty,” Daryl retorted.

Merle laughed and said, “Hey, this is pretty goddamn funny, though. ‘Cause ya know what _I’m_ seein’? You _care_ about blondie—hell, yer all worried ‘bout her reputation an’ shit. This is downright fuckin’ _adorable_! My stupid baby brother fallin’ in love—Christ on a cracker! Never thought I’d live ta see the day.”

“I’m gonna hang up now,” Daryl said.

“Why?! ‘Cause I’m callin’ ya out? Yer such a fuckin’ pussy. _Oh!_ Speakin’a which—you been textin’ blondie on the sly while the bitch is in yer house?” Merle laughed maniacally, and Daryl had to pull the phone away to save his ears the trauma. “You dirty fuckin’ dog, I _bet’cha_ have! Haven’t ya? Huh?! She send ya some more nudie pics? Gimme all the dirty deets! I sure hope you changed yer password by now. Know I didn’t raise ya to be such a careless fuckhead.”

A second passed, and Merle was chuckling the whole time.

Then Daryl said, “Go fuck yourself.”

“Oh, shit. I thought ya already hung up.”

In between Merle’s laughter, Daryl added, “Well, I changed my password. Deleted everything. Ain’t stupid.”

Merle laughed even harder. “Still pretty stupid, but at least yer _tryin’_ ta cover yer tracks. Fer fuck’s sake, young one, don’t you know—”

“Alright, I really am hangin’ up now,” Daryl interjected decisively. “I’ll see you tomorra.”

“Cool. Text me the time an’ we’ll be there ‘bout thirty minutes late like we always are.”

There was a pause where neither of them said anything. But Daryl knew that Merle could sense his expression through the phone.

And a second later, Merle sighed rather melodramatically and assured, “An’ don’t worry—I’ll keep my big mouth _shut_.”

“You fuckin’ better,” Daryl threatened.

“Just this once, though.” Merle chuckled mischievously. “Consider it a _free pass_. But don’t expect me ta keep _all_ yer secrets, dipshit. I’m not yer fuckin’ hairdresser.”

Daryl scoffed and mumbled, “Fuck off, asshole. See you tomorrow.”

Then he hung up.

**to be continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck it. Rapid update because I'm REALLY excited for y'all to see how this plays out.  
> HUGE HUGE HUGE shoutout to Obsidianr0se for the absolute class content she's been sending me. Oc memes, gorgeous moodboards... wow wow WOW! Y'all are in for a treat when I include more of the moodboards.
> 
> I have officially decided that Merle is the MOST fun to write in this universe.  
> And no offense to T Swift, I just feel like Daryl would despise her music lmao  
> Tried to keep the date as short as possible, so y'all don't have to suffer through too much Andrea lol
> 
> & if you care about this kinda stuff: I took some "comedic inspiration" for this chapter from the show _I'm Sorry_. It's on Netflix, only 2 seasons, but criminally hilarious. 10/10 would recommend (especially if you think Tom Everett Scott is fuckin' cute as hell)


	14. turning saints into the sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexa, play Mr. Brightside

  
[moodboard courtesy of [Obsidianr0se](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obsidianr0se/pseuds/Obsidianr0se)]

**turning saints into the sea**

It took Daryl some time to get comfortable in bed and allow himself to relax. But once he did, he fell asleep pretty quickly. And he didn’t dream. 

In the middle of the night, Andrea drifted over across the bed and cuddled up with him. In his half-asleep haze, he thought it might be Beth, and wrapped his arm tightly around her, pulling her close to his side. Then she hummed against his chest and nuzzled closer into the crook of his arm, and his fingers traced across her jutting hip bone. And he was abruptly reminded that it was definitely _not_ Beth sleeping beside him. It was his girlfriend. 

He let himself fall back asleep, still holding Andrea close. But as he drifted off, he was thinking of the soft flesh around the edges of Beth’s hip bones. He was thinking of how she’d hummed against his chest and nuzzled closer into the crook of his arm.

He was thinking of how she sang so beautifully, and laughed so carelessly, and pushed him to the edge of everything he’d ever thought he believed in.

Thankfully, sleep overtook all those thoughts, essentially erasing them from his mind altogether.

* * *

Andrea wanted to spend an extra hour lying in bed after they were both awake, so Daryl lay with her and drifted in and out of sleep. When they got up for the day, he made coffee and she checked emails on her laptop while she sat on the couch. He stepped out onto the porch for his morning cigarette, but he didn’t even check his phone. He already knew there were no new notifications. It remained in his pocket, silent and still. He sat in his rickety old porch chair and watched Dog chase after birds.

About an hour later, he made breakfast, and Andrea ate over her laptop while reading through some important document she’d just received. Daryl occupied himself with watching reruns on TV and doing the dishes.

A text from Rick shortly after lunch kicked Daryl into gear.

**_So what time tonight?_ **

Oh yeah. Fuck.

He dropped the news on Andrea once he’d sat back down on the couch, fresh inside from taking Dog for their routine Saturday walk.

As he’d expected, she wasn’t pleased. But he mentioned that Michonne would be there and that she was excited to see her, and Andrea perked up a bit. Within a few minutes, she was smiling and agreeing that it might be a nice way to spend their Saturday night.

He texted Rick back as soon as they decided on a time.

_Yeah how’s 7:30?_

Then Daryl mentioned that Merle and Frankie would be there. And Andrea’s mood completely flipped.

“You’ve gotta be _fucking_ kidding me.”

It took a solid hour of convincing before Daryl managed to soften the blow.

But eventually, Andrea conceded and accepted the situation. And he was actually pretty hopeful that she would make a real effort to get along. 

He just kept reminding her that it was about catching up with Rick and Michonne, and she _liked_ Rick and Michonne, and didn’t she want to keep close with their friends? Even if they had kids and could barely find time to go out anymore?

Rick texted back.

 **_Babysitter will be here at 7 so that’s perfect! Meet up at my house?_ ** **_  
_** **_Btw is there any chance either of you could be DD ??_ ** **_  
_** **_We haven’t had an adult’s night out in a while lol_ **

By late afternoon, Andrea was borderline _excited_ to get to the bar. She even called Michonne to confirm, and spent a few minutes on the phone, talking and laughing. 

Although she was still being very vocal about her disdain for Merle and Frankie. And she wasn’t happy about the fact that they had to drive to Rick’s house first. Because why couldn’t they just meet up at the bar? Why did they _need_ a designated driver? Such a waste of gas and time. Daryl hadn’t really questioned it, so he didn’t have an answer.

He just didn’t understand why it was such a big deal. So what if Rick wanted to meet up at his house? So what if he and Michonne wanted to drink without worrying about driving home safely? Daryl was willing to sacrifice alcohol tonight and take over the driver’s seat. It wasn’t like it was some huge inconvenience for anyone.

But then again, Andrea had a knack for making mountains out of molehills.

Daryl cooked an early supper and they ate quietly while watching the evening news. He remembered to text Merle.

_7:30 at the horseshoe_

**_K c u after 8_ **

Then Andrea hopped in the shower, and he cleaned up and prepared himself for their night out—both physically _and_ mentally.

He took a moment to sit outside and smoke a cigarette. And while he did so, knowing Andrea was in the shower, he opened Instagram.

The first thing he saw was a new Story from _greene.with.envy_. He tapped on it without hesitation and watched a 30-second video fill his screen. No caption. Just Beth. Singing. He turned the volume up as soon as he spotted the guitar in her lap.

Her long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. No makeup on her face. She was wearing a baggy blue T-shirt, sitting on the edge of her bed with early afternoon sunlight pouring in through the windows behind her. And that familiar acoustic guitar was in her lap. She stretched and pressed her fingers against the frets, strumming delicately but purposefully with the other hand. Tilting her head back. The thin muscles of her throat were flexing and stretching as she sang. Playing a song he’d heard on the radio hundreds of times over the last decade. But in a much more melancholy tone, and with discreetly altered lyrics.

_“—now I’m fallin’ asleep, and he’s callin’ her cab, while he’s havin’ a smoke, and she’s takin’ a drag. Now they’re goin’ to bed, and my stomach is sick, and it’s all in my head—but she’s touching his che-est now, she takes off her dress now, let me go-o-o… ‘cause I just can’t look, it’s killing me…”_

He only replayed it about five times. He only allowed Beth’s voice to penetrate his skull for about ten solid minutes.

Then his heart rate finally began to slow, and he decided that was more than enough. He closed Instagram. 

Didn’t mean anything. She was just flexing her vocal cords. Just covering a song that was popular within her generation. No particular meaning behind it. There was nothing to be read between the lines.

It was just a summer fling.

* * *

It was barely past 7, and Daryl was doing a once-over to make sure Dog had enough food and water, also double-checking that he had his wallet, keys, and phone. Andrea was putting in her earrings while she walked through the living room in search of her clutch purse that she’d set down somewhere the night before.

“Where the fuck is it? I literally _just_ had it!” She exclaimed in frustration, shoving an earring into the hole of her lobe.

And then: “Shit!”

Daryl was preoccupied with filling Dog’s food bowl. When he lifted his head and glanced over, he saw Andrea getting down on her hands and knees to peer under the couch.

“Goddammit,” she cursed. “Stupid fucking earring.” She reached a hand beneath the couch in search of her dropped jewelry.

Daryl thought nothing of it and went back to focusing on his own matters. But a second later, Andrea was making a very loud sound—like a mixture of surprise and indignation. He whipped his head around to see her standing in front of the couch and staring at him expectantly. She was holding up what she’d just found.

A pair of lacy red panties were dangling from her finger. He recognized them immediately.

 _Beth’s_ panties.

Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh fuck shit.

His stomach dropped, but he put on his most convincing shocked expression. And he tried to appear a little disgusted, as well.

“What the fuck?” He asked.

“Uh, what the _fuck_ indeed,” Andrea snapped. Her eyes were blazing, and her whole face was tense with suppressed rage. “Care to explain?”

Daryl scoffed, even though he could feel his cheeks growing hot.

Play it cool. Play it cool.

“Explain what? Sure as hell ain’t mine.”

That answer did not please Andrea. Her eyebrows rose and her face tightened. “No shit, smartass. So whose _are_ they?”

Time to lie on the spot. Who could he blame this on? What would Beth do in this situation?

He shrugged. “Gotta be Frankie’s. Her an’ Merle spent the night last week—”

“What—are you serious?!” Andrea made a disgusted face and dropped the panties onto the couch. “Why were they here? You let them _fuck_ on your _couch_?”

Daryl shrugged again. “Couldn’t exactly stop ‘em. We hung out one night an’ they passed out here ‘cause they couldn’t drive home. Wasn’t a big deal.”

Thank God she hated Merle and Frankie enough to consider that story plausible.

Andrea scowled. “It’s kind of a big deal when they’re leaving dirty _underwear_ behind. That’s _disgusting_ , Daryl.”

“Take it up with Merle,” he muttered.

Shit. Shouldn’t have said that.

Andrea grew even more defensive. And aggravated. “Oh, I will! This is _unacceptable_. Your brother can’t just come in here and think he…”

But Daryl stopped listening. He nodded and grunted in agreement and didn’t say anything, letting her go on a rant about manners and boundaries and whatever else.

It was just easier to stay quiet.

All the while, he was wondering: how did that happen?

Beth hadn’t even been wearing panties last time she came over. Did she bring some along just to drop them under the couch? Why the _fuck_ would she even do that? Was it on purpose? Had she left her panties behind in the vindictive hope that his girlfriend would happen upon them?

But Beth wasn’t _like that_.

Regardless, he couldn’t stop asking himself… 

Was she really trying to get him in _trouble_?

* * *

Daryl wanted to text Beth and ask her _what the fuck_. But he decided not to risk it. Maybe he’d get the chance to text her later in the night.

Meanwhile, he’d have to worry about whether or not Andrea would bring it up with Merle and Frankie. And whether Merle would catch on and cover Daryl’s ass.

Shit. Was this what it had come to? He used to be such a dutiful and diligent boyfriend. He used to be a goddamn _saint_. Until Beth Greene came along and made all that sinning just a little too fun.

And now he was relying on _Merle_ to cover his ass?

Jesus tapdancing Christ. He was so fucked.

Andrea continued to rant and rave during the drive to Rick’s house. She moved on from her complaints about Merle and Frankie’s “boundary issues” to loudly vocalizing her objections against going to Rick’s house before the bar. Daryl reminded her that Michonne would already be there, and didn’t she want to say hi to Carl and see how big Judith’s gotten?

But Andrea just huffed in annoyance and muttered something about, “You know I don’t like kids. There’s a _reason_ we use protection.”

He shut his mouth at that. Tried not to think about it, either. Because there’d been a time—a _long_ time—when he’d been convinced that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with fatherhood. But then he’d made friends with Rick and seen how the Grimes household operated, even amidst divorce and Lori’s new relationship. He grew attached to baby Judith, and he’d bonded with Carl. He’d met Carol and been reminded of his own mother, and then he’d bonded with Sophia, too. He already felt like an adopted uncle to a handful of kids. He’d already started to think, hey maybe this ain’t such a bad idea. Because who better to break the cycle of what his shitty old man had started than himself?

Seems Merle was gonna beat him to it, though. Which only made this all that much more conflicting. If Daryl’s own _brother_ could settle down and make the decision to become a father despite his deep-seated fears… then where did that leave Daryl?

He’d thought it was too late for any of that, in all honesty. He’d thought he missed the deadline, and that fatherhood was already off the table regardless. But now he was realizing that might not be the case.

And hell, if Merle wasn’t right when he’d said _“shit changes all the time.”_

But, yeah. Daryl was trying _not_ to think about it.

Once they reached Senoia city limits, he texted Rick.

_Almost there_

**_Cool_ ** **_  
_** **_Do you guys wanna come inside for a minute?_ **

_Yeah is Asskicker still up?_

**_Yep_ **

_Cool see ya soon_

Andrea had worked herself into aggravation by the time they pulled up to Rick’s house. Rick’s car was in the driveway, and Michonne’s was right behind it, so Andrea parked by the curb.

She rolled her eyes when Daryl told her that he wanted to go inside and see the kids, but all she said was, “Fine, I gotta pee anyway.”

They walked up to the front door and knocked. Daryl could hear voices from inside, mostly Rick’s and Michonne’s. Then he heard Carl’s familiar voice, and the door swung open to reveal the entryway to the house, and the slightly gawky fourteen-year-old boy. His hair had gotten longer, shagging past his ears and over one eye, and he’d grown an inch or two since Daryl had last seen him in person.

Carl smiled as soon as he saw Daryl. “Hey! What’s up, dude?”

“Not much, good ta see ya,” Daryl greeted, stepping inside and fist-bumping Carl on the way.

Andrea stepped in behind him with a muttered, “Hi, Carl. Mind if I use your bathroom?”

“Hey, Andrea. Nah, go for it.” Carl smiled politely and watched her walk away towards the door at the end of the hall. Then he turned back to look up at Daryl. “So yer gonna be my dad’s DD tonight? Does that mean he’s gonna get shit-faced?”

“I don’t think yer s’posed ta say that,” Daryl muttered, but he shot Carl a smirk and ruffled his hair. “Where’s he at?”

Carl shut the front door and pointed towards the living room. “In there.”

Daryl nodded and stepped down to the hall, veering left and through the doorway that led to the living room. Carl followed behind him.

The place looked the same as Daryl remembered, all warm and cozy and decorated with family photos and knick-knacks. He followed the sound of Rick’s voice and found both Rick and Michonne standing in front of the couch. And there was baby Judith—not so much a baby anymore, but a full-blown toddler. And she was sitting in Beth’s lap.

 _Wait_. What the fuck—Beth was here?!

He had to do a double-take as his eyes scanned across the room. Then he froze.

There she fucking was. Sitting so casually on Rick’s couch, holding Judith in her lap. Her long blonde hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and she was wearing gray leggings and a baggy, white T-shirt with a colorful logo that said _Atlanta Vacation Bible School 2015_. And those black flip-flops from the other night. Her face was bare of makeup and glowing with a sun-kissed tan. She was smiling. So carefree and comfortable. So casual.

(And still fucking breathtaking.)

Fuck. He was anything _but_ casual right now. He had _not_ been prepared to see her here. His heart skipped and beat a little faster. It suddenly felt like there was electricity in the air.

As soon as his gaze landed on her, she glanced over and met his eyes. A mirrored expression of surprise flickered across her face.

She hadn’t expected to see him here, either.

He wanted to say hi, but it felt weird. He was afraid it would come out all wrong, and there was a lump in his throat anyway. So he merely nodded in greeting.

But she was a lot better at playing it cool. So she just smirked knowingly and returned her attention to Rick, who was talking to her while Michonne stood by and nodded in agreement.

“—and y’already know she goes down at eight, but because of the potty-training, we been gettin’ her up about every two to three hours, so maybe around ten or eleven, ya wanna check in and—” 

Beth finally cut him off with a smile. “I know, y’already told me. It’s no big deal. I’ll set an alarm. Don’t worry, Rick, I’ll make sure we don’t have any accidents.” Then she leaned down to grin at Judith, who laughed and squirmed in Beth’s lap. “Isn’t that right, Judy? No wet Pull-Ups for _us_ tonight!” Judith laughed harder, absolutely enamored with the blonde woman.

Daryl shifted his weight awkwardly and cleared his throat. Rick spun around, smiling when he spotted Daryl.

“Oh, hey! Ya made it. Where’s Andrea?”

“Bathroom,” Daryl said. He glanced over at Michonne and nodded. “Hey, ‘Chonne.”

She smiled back. “Hey, Daryl.”

“Cool. Y’all about ready to head out?” Rick asked.

“Yeah—”

Carl stepped forward and interjected, “Dad, why do I even need a babysitter while you go to the bar? I could’ve just stayed here with Judith alone. I’m almost _fifteen_.”

Rick chuckled, but before he could respond, Beth teased, “Wow, Carl. I thought we were _friends_.”

Carl blushed and quickly apologized, “We are, I didn’t mean—”

Beth giggled. And Rick cut him off and said, “Well, if you _must_ know, I figured havin’ Beth here would give ya some free time. Didn’t you say Enid was gonna be at the skate park tonight?”

Carl’s eyes went wide. “Wait—for real? I can go out?!”

Rick laughed. “As long as ya promise to keep in touch with Beth. And be home at a reasonable time. Like _before_ midnight. Ya hear me? She’ll tell me if you don’t come home in time, and then you really _will_ be grounded.”

Carl nodded, still wide-eyed with excitement. “Yeah, of course! I promise! I’ll be _so_ on time! Crap, I gotta get ready.”

And then the oldest Grimes child was off, racing loudly up the stairs to his bedroom to prepare for his night out. Rick shook his head, still chuckling, and turned back to Daryl.

“Teenagers,” he said.

Daryl merely grunted. “No kiddin’.” 

Judith zeroed in on Daryl from across the room and reached out with grabby hands. “Unc-uh Dawyl!”

Rick glanced down at his daughter and smiled. “Oh, I think somebody’s been missin’ their Uncle Daryl.”

Judith kept reaching out and Daryl couldn’t help but step forward. Even though it meant coming into close proximity with Beth. Closing the distance while those big cornflower blues watched him. He averted his gaze and focused on Judith, and reminded himself that he really had missed her.

But fuck. He’d missed the woman holding her even more. In a much, much different way. To the point that it felt like there was literal static in the air as he closed the distance.

He reached down and swooped Judith up into his arms, then he took a large step back. Judith giggled and wrapped her chubby little arms around his neck. And for a moment, he was focused on the toddler. 

“Ya been good, Li’l Asskicker? Huh? Causin’ trouble fer yer parents?” He teased, tickling her sides.

She laughed and began babbling away, “I been good! Ma-mama Michonne took um, she took me ta the park, an’ there was a slide…”

Andrea’s voice chimed in from the doorway. “Aw, look how big she’s gotten! She’s beautiful.”

“Hey, Andrea!” Rick greeted, glancing over as she entered the room and stepped forward to stand beside Daryl.

Michonne grinned and practically leapt forward to embrace her friend. “There she is!”

Andrea laughed and hugged the other woman back, and they began chatting enthusiastically. Judith was still babbling on while Daryl held her.

A couple minutes of toddler conversation passed, and then Rick was leaning over and speaking quietly with Beth, and she was nodding in agreement before stepping forward and reaching out for Judith.

“Okay, time ta get ready for bed,” she announced with a warm smile, allowing her gaze to catch Daryl’s for no longer than a split-second. Judith squirmed in his arms and eagerly leaned out towards Beth. “Say night-night to Uncle Daryl!”

Judith giggled as she passed over from Daryl’s arms into Beth’s, and Daryl tried not to think about the shiver that was running up his spine when their arms brushed together. But then Judith was distracting him with a particularly adorable, “‘Night-night, Dawyl!”

He chuckled and gently pinched her on the cheek. “‘Night, Li’l Asskicker. Keep raisin’ hell.”

Beth rolled her eyes, smiling, and joked, “She doesn’t need any encouragement.”

Then she was walking away with the youngest Grimes child in her arms, leaving the room and disappearing into the hall. Daryl tried not to stare after her.

Rick nudged his arm and caught his attention. “Hey, you wanna grab a water from the kitchen ‘fore we go?”

Daryl glanced over to see that Michonne and Andrea were still chatting away, lost in their own little world. He nodded and stood back while Rick began leading the way to the kitchen. Right before he went to follow, his gaze drifted towards the fireplace mantel beside him. And for whatever reason, his eyes caught on a framed photo that he’d seen a dozen times, but never really _looked at_.

This time, it seemed to jump out at him. He couldn’t _not_ look at it. A photo of teenaged Beth holding Judith as a baby within a silver picture frame, propped up on the mantel beside a couple other framed photos, including Rick’s brother holding baby Judith, and newborn Judith with her grandparents. But Daryl had already zeroed in on the picture of Beth.

The way she smiled so easily. The way her arms seemed to cradle Judith so naturally. The look of pure bliss on baby Judith’s face. And the matched look of pure bliss that was evident in Beth’s eyes, in the smile that curved her lips.

She looked so _happy_. They both did.

He had to tear his eyes away and follow after Rick into the kitchen. But he was still thinking about that photo. And now he was thinking about that stupid fucking wet dream he’d had… Christ.

Once he and Rick were inside the kitchen and a room away from Andrea and Michonne, Rick opened the fridge and pulled out two water bottles. He handed one to Daryl as he closed the fridge, which Daryl took with a muttered “thanks,” and Rick leaned against the edge of the island counter.

“So,” Rick said, opening his water and taking a swig before he set his eyes on Daryl rather intently. “How’s things with Andrea? Y’all been fightin’ this weekend?”

Daryl shrugged. “Nah. Been pretty good.”

“She’s pissed ya had ta pick us up though, huh?”

“A little.”

“Yeah, I could tell. She pissed that Merle’s comin’, too?”

“Real pissed. But she’ll get over it.”

Rick frowned and heaved a sigh. “Yeah. I guess.”

Before Daryl could respond, the ladies’ voices drifted closer, and he turned to see Andrea and Michonne entering the kitchen.

“Hey, what’re you guys doin’?” Andrea asked. “We about ready to leave?”

“I sure am,” Michonne said.

“Yeah, ready when you are,” Rick said.

Daryl held out his water bottle to Andrea. “Ya want some water, babe?”

Andrea waved him off. “I’m good. I wanna get to the bar and start _actually_ drinking.”

Michonne met Daryl’s eyes and said, “So your brother’s meetin’ us there?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“But Frankie’s comin’, too,” Rick chimed in. “So he won’t be _too_ insufferable.”

Andrea laughed humorlessly. “Don’t get your hopes up. He’s got a way of ruining _everything_.”

Michonne nudged her friend and said, “C’mon, it won’t be so bad. We can ignore him.”

Andrea rolled her eyes. “We can _try_.” Then she looked over at Daryl and said, “I still don’t know why you have to invite your brother to _everything_.”

“I _told_ you I didn’t invite him, he invited himself,” Daryl argued.

She sighed. “Sure. And you just can’t _possibly_ stop him.”

Daryl opened his mouth to snap back with another defense, but Michonne interjected before he could.

“Merle is a force to be reckoned with. We all know that. Not much use in telling him no.”

Rick made a sound of agreement. “Too damn true.”

“He wouldn’t be if Daryl could just set some boundaries and _stick_ to them,” Andrea remarked bitterly.

The mood in the room changed, and the tension became palpable. Daryl was trying to bite his tongue, but he really hated when she went on these fucking rants about Merle and refused to let up. Especially in front of other people.

“He’s my brother,” he murmured. “Only blood family I got left.”

“Here we go with the excuses.” Andrea rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

Michonne appeared a bit awkward. “Oh—hun, I forgot my necklace. I wanted to wear it tonight.” She gave Rick a pointed look.

Rick straightened up and cleared his throat, barely glancing from Andrea to Daryl before locking his eyes on Michonne. “Oh, right. Ya need help puttin’ it on?”

“Yes, please,” Michonne said. She turned and left the kitchen rather hurriedly

“Okay—be right back, guys. Then we can head out,” Rick said, then he was following after his partner.

Which left Daryl and Andrea alone. And she was glaring at him with nothing less than pure contempt.

He bristled and tried to meet her eyes with confidence. But he really didn’t wanna fight. Why were they arguing about Merle _again_? Why was she so insistent on cutting his brother out of his life? His only living blood relation? 

Why couldn’t she at least _try_ to see the good in Merle? Just for Daryl’s sake? He wasn’t _that_ awful.

Andrea leaned forward, eyes narrowed, and he could already tell she was on the offensive. So he cut her off before she could start.

“Are you really try’na _fight_ about this right now?” He said, his tone low and clipped. “We’re s’posed ta be havin’ a _fun_ night out.”

“I’m not _trying_ to fight about _anything_ ,” she spat back. “ _You’re_ the one who can’t grow a spine and tell your asshole brother _no_ every once in a while. This _would_ be a fun night out if we could’ve kept it a double date, but you had to—”

“What the fuck is yer issue with Frankie? She ain’t done nothin’ ta you.”

“Are you kidding me? She’s _vile_ , Daryl. She’s the female fucking version of Merle. The two of them bring out the absolute _worst_ in you—and that’s not even considering the fact that they take _advantage_ of you.”

“Take _advantage_ of me? How the fuck you figure? She’s the best damn thing that’s ever happened ta him. He’s got a steady job now, he don’t ask me fer money hardly ever, so I don’t see why you got such a problem—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. Just because he’s not _mooching_ off you doesn’t mean he’s not still taking advantage. They’re both white trash. I just can’t stand the way you act like this is who you are, like—”

“This _is_ who I am, what the fuck d’you mean? Who the hell you think I’m s’posed ta be?”

“ _Better!_ Jesus Christ, Daryl. Be _better_. Want _more_ for yourself! How fucking hard is it? Even a hillbilly like you should be able to recognize when it’s time to move the fuck on and make some _real_ plans for the future. I—“

Daryl was fuming, and he was already opening his mouth to snap back with a scathing retort. But then Andrea stopped, and he saw her glancing over his shoulder in surprise, her lips snapping shut.

He turned his head and found Beth standing in the doorway. Looking like a deer caught in headlights as she emerged from the shadowy hallway.

“Oh—sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she apologized, frozen where she stood and glancing back and forth between Andrea and Daryl.

How long had she been standing there? How much had she heard during the approach?

Andrea heaved a sigh, clearly annoyed. “Oh. Hi, Beth. Did you _need_ something?”

To Daryl’s surprise, Beth straightened her back and met the older woman’s narrowed eyes with a confident—and somewhat defiant—expression. “Yeah, actually. I came in to get Judith’s sippy cup. Don’t mind me.” There was a slight edge to her voice that Daryl wasn’t sure Andrea could pick up on.

But _he_ certainly had. 

Then the young blonde was brushing past them both and straight for the fridge, where she opened the door and reached in to push past a few things in search of a sippy cup. Andrea didn’t say anything, but she glared at Daryl the whole time, lips pursed like she was readying herself to explode as soon as the _intruder_ left the room.

When Beth took a second too long in the fridge, and Daryl’s eyes lingered a second too long, Andrea stepped forward and grabbed him by the arm. She jerked him towards the door.

Fuck. He hadn’t even _realized_ he’d been letting himself stare. Goddammit.

“What, you got a thing for _babysitters_ now?” She hissed. “C’mon, Daryl.”

Jesus Christ. What did he just get himself into?

He quickly tore his eyes away and allowed his girlfriend to lead him out of the kitchen, his ears burning red and his head lowered in shame.

But he risked one last glance back. Just in time to see Beth raising her head and watching him walk away.

And the expression on her face was one he didn’t quite recognize.

**to be continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is my favorite cover of Mr. Brightside](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6DfjORi2wMA&ab_channel=KateMcGill), and also the same general tone that I imagined Beth using in her Story.   
> Trying to make Andrea come off as a bit narcissistic, so hopefully that's coming through. I just think about my ex and use that lol
> 
> And yep, a lot of you called it... Beth was the babysitter. And of course she had to walk in at the worst possible time.  
> And some of you even predicted that Beth would leave something behind for Andrea to find! But was it on purpose or a complete accident? You will find out next chapter.  
> There's still a little more Beth vs Andrea next chapter, and then we move on to the bar and finally get to meet Frankie :)


	15. weird flexes & vibe checks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the night is only just beginning...  
> Damn shame Daryl agreed to be the DD, because he's thinking he'd rather be shit-faced for this.

  
[oc meme courtesy of [Obsidianr0se](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obsidianr0se/pseuds/Obsidianr0se)]  
  


**weird flexes & vibe checks**

Daryl and Andrea were standing side-by-side in front of the door, preparing to leave while Rick and Michonne stood a couple feet away and spoke with Beth, who was standing at the bottom of the staircase. Andrea tapped her foot impatiently, but Daryl just stood in silence and watched, trying his hardest not to let his eyes linger on Beth for a second too long. She was focused on Rick and Michonne, smiling and nodding along.

Rick was prattling on, “And I already texted ya all the codes for the parental locks, and the code for the alarm system—oh, and the number fer poison control is on the fridge, but if anything happens, you just call me, alrigh’? I’ll keep my ringer on.”

Michonne placed a hand on his arm and shook her head, smiling. “Sweetheart, she knows already. Beth’s got this.”

“Well, it’s been a while since she babysat,” Rick said. “I dunno if—”

Beth interjected with a chuckle. “Really, Rick, it’s fine. It hasn’t been _that_ long since I babysat Judith. Just go out an’ enjoy yourself for once.”

Rick raised his eyebrows. “But if Carl—”

“Yes, I will keep tabs on Carl, too,” Beth insisted, laughing. “Seriously! It’s _fine_ , jus’ go have some fun.”

Rick sighed, and Michonne was tugging his arm towards the door. “See? I told you. We’ll both have our phones on us, and Beth already knows what to do. Let’s go before Andrea loses her mind over here!”

Andrea smiled and rolled her eyes. “Ha ha, very funny. Really though, I _am_ ready for a drink.” She shared a laugh with Michonne at that.

“Okay then,” Rick concluded, focusing on Beth once more. “We should be back by midnight. If it starts to look like it’ll go longer, we’ll call ya. Alright? So keep yer phone close by?”

Beth smirked and nodded. “Stay out as late as you want. I’ll have my phone in my hand _all night_.”

Her eyes flickered over and met Daryl’s for the most fleeting split-second. He wasn’t even sure if it had really happened. 

But then, right as Rick was opening his mouth to repeat himself for the hundredth time, Carl came racing down the stairs.

“Wait! Daryl—before you leave!” He jumped over the last step and stomped down to stand directly in front of Rick, who quickly stepped aside so Daryl could see Carl without obstruction.

Carl was wearing brand new jeans and unscuffed sneakers, but he didn’t have a shirt on. He was holding up two different shirts on hangers. One was a red-and-black plaid button-down, while the other was a dressier blue-and-white striped polo.

And the teenager was staring up at Daryl with wide eyes and an expectant look as he asked, “Which one looks better?”

Daryl shrugged, caught off-guard. But he gave his honest opinion, jerking his chin towards the shirt on the right. “The plaid. More casual. ‘S just a skate park, right?”

Carl’s eyes lit up and he was practically beaming. “Yeah! Y’think so?”

Daryl nodded. “Definitely.”

“Cool!” Carl grinned and held up the chosen shirt, giving it another look.

Rick chuckled. “Wow, so yer goin’ ta _Daryl_ for fashion advice now, huh?”

Carl shrugged. “Well—he knows my style, Dad.”

Rick and Daryl exchanged a baffled look and a laugh. 

Then Andrea chimed in, “If you’re lookin’ to impress a girl, you might wanna think about cutting that hair.”

Carl’s grin faltered and he looked over at Andrea quizzically. “What—really? I like it. I’ve been growin’ it out ‘cause it kinda looks like Daryl’s.”

Daryl reeled. He could feel his ears turning red, and he glanced over to see the expression of bewilderment on Andrea’s face.

Then she laughed and said, “But Daryl looks like a _hobo_ with that hair. I’ve been buggin’ him to cut it for _months_ now.”

Daryl merely grunted in confirmation and shoved his hands into his pockets. He suddenly felt awkward. Carl, Rick, and Michonne were looking at Andrea now.

But when Daryl’s eyes flickered over, he found Beth’s gaze set on _him_. And she was frowning.

“Damn,” Carl sighed. “I guess I didn’t think about that.”

Andrea and Rick both opened their mouths to comment, but Beth beat them to the punch.

“I think it looks nice, Carl.”

He glanced over at her and smiled, and she returned it with a warm smile of her own. An _honest_ smile.

Andrea chuckled condescendingly. “ _Of course_ you do, Beth.” Then she glanced over at Michonne and muttered, “Must be a Gen Z thing.”

Michonne huffed out an amused breath, but it was stiff, as though she were agreeing rather reluctantly.

Carl muttered, “Weird flex, but okay.”

“What?” Andrea snapped, confused.

Michonne stifled a laugh.

But Beth retorted quickly—and confidently, “I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s a generational thing. Some guys can just pull it off.”

For less than a heartbeat, her eyes met Daryl’s. And he caught the little glint in her gaze. Then she was turning to Carl again, smiling encouragingly.

Andrea seemed to be stunned silent. Or just unable to come up with a witty comeback. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

Michonne was smiling wickedly as she murmured, “Got a point. There’s Fabio, Jon Bon Jovi, John Stamos, Kurt Cobain, Lenny Kravitz, Keanu Reeves, Johnny Depp, Jason Mamoa—just to name a few ‘Hollywood heartthrobs’ with ‘hobo’ hair.”

“Okay,” Andrea cut her off, light-hearted but not _totally_ light-hearted. “We get it, Michonne. I can be _wrong_ sometimes.”

But Carl was glowing from the confidence boost, and looking to his dad for reassurance. “What d’you think, Dad?”

Rick laughed and shrugged. “Does it really matter what I think, son? So long as you shower an’ wear deodorant, I don’t care _what_ ya do with your appearance. Lord knows I got no idea what girls yer age like.”

Carl just laughed and raced back upstairs, both shirts in hand.

“So we’ll see you in a few hours, just call if anything happens,” Michonne told Beth, urging Rick towards the door before he could think of something else to worry about.

Beth smiled and nodded, said goodbye, and retreated back upstairs.

All the while, Daryl was doing his best to keep his eyes off her. Because Andrea was still standing right beside him, and he could feel the anger radiating off of her. She did _not_ like being made into the butt of the joke in front of two “kids.”

And Daryl knew that’s how she saw Beth: as a _kid_. Just like Carl. Just like she thought of Amy, her _kid_ sister. No matter how old those “kids” actually got, they’d always be younger, dumber, less experienced, and less worthy of her time.

Shit. Maybe Daryl should be thankful for that. Maybe he wouldn’t have to pay the price later for getting caught staring too long at “the babysitter.”

Couldn’t go getting his hopes up just yet, though. The night was still young.

* * *

Andrea insisted on having Michonne sit in the front passenger seat of her shiny BMW. So for the twelve-minute drive from Rick’s house to The Broken Horseshoe, the ladies sat up front and the men sat in the back. 

The majority of the ride consisted of Andrea and Michonne chatting happily with each other, while Rick listened and chimed in every few seconds. But Daryl was sitting silently in his seat, only partially listening.

He decided to take advantage of this brief opportunity. He contemplated texting Merle, just to give him a heads up about the panties and plead for a decent cover if Andrea happened to bring it up. But Merle was inconsistent when it came to checking his phone and texting back, so Daryl decided it wasn’t worth the risk.

Instead, he tapped on the New Message button, and in the _To:_ line, he typed _Trouble_.

Beth’s number popped up and he tapped on it. Then he typed out a message and hit the little blue arrow before he could second-guess himself. He watched his text float up and solidify at the top of a brand new conversation.

_Only got a few minutes to talk but Andrea found your panties under the couch ???_

He gripped the phone in his hands while Rick, Michonne, and Andrea talked around him. He stared down at the screen, heart thumping, willing _Delivered_ to change to _Read_.

And then, nearly a full minute after he’d sent it, his text was Read.

The three little typing dots appeared. He held his breath until Beth’s gray-bubbled response appeared.

**_What???_ **

He poised his thumbs to tap out a response, but the animated dots were still flashing. Beth was still typing.

 **_What panties??_ ** **_  
_** **_Omfg Daryl I swear I didn’t leave anything behind_ ** **_  
_** **_I would NOT do that to you on purpose._ ** **_  
_** **_Omg I’m so sorry!!_ **

Oh, fuck. He _knew_ it had to have been an accident. He _knew_ she wasn’t vindictive like that.

Yeah, she could be lying. But for whatever reason, he was inclined to believe her. Even through text, she seemed genuinely panicked and apologetic. 

And hell, maybe he was being fooled. But he liked to think that wasn’t the case.

 _Really_ _  
_ _?_

The typing dots appeared, flashing almost furiously. Or maybe he was just interpreting them that way.

 **_Seriously?? Why would I do that??_ ** **_  
_** **_I told you I don’t want any drama_ ** **_  
_** **_And stg I would never blow up your spot like that_ **

_It’s alright_ _  
_ _Told her they were Frankie’s_

**_Did she believe it??_ **

_Think so._

**_Ugh thank God_ ** **_  
_** **_I’m srsly so so so sorry_ ** **_  
_** **_They must’ve fallen out of my bag_ **

_But you weren’t wearing any panties ?_

**_Lol but I brought some just in case_ ** **_  
_** **_And when I grabbed my vibrator, I was kinda rustling around in there in a hurry_ ** **_  
_** **_Not a lot of light_ ** **_  
_** **_So yeah… I’m really sorry :(_ ** **_  
_** **_I would never try to cause real trouble for you like this. I hope you know that._ **

_I do_ _  
_ _Figured it was probly an accident_ _  
_ _Merle will cover for me_

 **_You sure??_ ** **_  
_** **_Andrea seemed pretty irritated already_ **

_No more than usual_ _  
_ _It’s all good._

**_That’s usual…?_ **

_For her? Yeah. Nbd_

**_Why do you let her talk to you like that?_ **

Not a single emoji to be found. No lol or lmao or jk.

Daryl paused. He reread Beth’s message for a second time. A third. A fourth.

In his head, he replayed the things Andrea had said to him in front of Beth. And the things Beth might or might not have heard. And he couldn’t figure out what she meant. Because that was how Andrea _always_ talked to him. That was how she’d _been_ talking to him since they‘d been together.

It was the same way every other girlfriend or wife spoke to their below-average man. It was… _normal_.

Wasn’t it?

He typed out a response and sent it, even though he was hesitant.

_Like what?_

**_???_ ** **_  
_** **_Really? Lol_ **

_Yeah really I guess ??_ _  
_ _Idk what you mean_

 **_Well I don’t mean to be rude or anything but she talks to you like she can’t stand you._ ** **_  
_** **_What’s up with that?_ **

_Umm_ _  
_ _Still don’t know what you mean ??_

 **_Daryl._ ** **_  
_** **_You’re not dumb. Why are you acting like this?_ ** **_  
_** **_I heard her call you a hillbilly and tell you to “be better” ??_ ** **_  
_** **_And she compared you to a hobo in front of everyone_ ** **_  
_** **_Idk_ ** **_  
_** **_There’s vibe checks and then there’s…_ ** **_  
_** **_Whatever your gf is doing_ ** **_  
_** **_And it just doesn’t really seem right._ **

_Ok ???_ _  
_ _Vibe checks?? Wtf is that_ _  
_ _And what am I supposed to do about it?_ _  
_ _Idk what you’re trying to say_

 **_I’m sorry_ ** **_  
_** **_I didn’t mean it like that_ **

The gray bubble of animated dots popped up and kept going for several solid seconds as Beth texted a string of messages.

 **_All I’m saying is like_ ** **_  
_** **_Idk_ ** **_  
_** **_Do you ever hear Michonne talk to Rick like that?_ ** **_  
_** **_I’m pretty sure Merle’s gf doesn’t say that kinda stuff to him, does she?_ ** **_  
_** **_But idk_ **

Daryl typed out the only thing he could think to respond with.

_Everybody’s relationship is different behind closed doors_

**_I mean_ ** **_  
_** **_Yeah ?_ ** **_  
_** **_I guess…_ ** **_  
_** **_It’s none of my business tbh. Pls just forget I said anything_ ** **_  
_** **_I’m sorry. I really am._ ** **_  
_** **_I didn’t mean to start drama or anything._ **

Then Daryl raised his head just long enough to see that they were a block away from the bar. Michonne and Rick were laughing about something. Andrea was speeding up a little, then slowing down and preparing to park.

He didn’t even have the chance to regret his previous messages. Or to acknowledge the Typing dots that indicated Beth was still texting.

He texted back hurriedly.

 _It’s ok_ _  
_ _Pulling up to the bar now g2g_ _  
_ _Ttyl_

The dots disappeared. She didn’t respond.

As soon as his final message turned to Read, he backed out of the conversation and deleted it. Then he locked his phone and shoved it into his pocket.

But his stomach was churning. And he wasn’t sure alcohol would be the answer he needed.

What the fuck were _vibe checks_? Or what was a, quote, “ _vibe check_?”

Jesus Christ. He was so far out of his fucking league.

* * *

Rick, Michonne, Daryl, and Andrea got a table in the corner of the bar and ordered a round of drinks. Andrea was already starting off with a vodka soda, but Daryl was sticking to beer because he only intended to drink a few since he needed to be sober enough to drive everyone back home.

The Horseshoe was fairly busy considering it was Happy Hour on Friday night. Locals were filtering in and out of the doors every few minutes, and the usual bartender had some help for once, seeing as the drink orders were practically nonstop. There was a constant buzz of conversation and laughter within the small establishment, amongst the music playing on the jukebox and the sounds of pool balls clicking together and darts being chucked at dartboards. 

Daryl sat quietly in his seat, nursing his beer, while Andrea, Rick, and Michonne chatted away. They had a lot to catch up on. But Daryl couldn’t say he had much to contribute to the conversation. Besides, his mind was still stuck on Beth.

Though not for the usual reasons.

His stomach was still churning and he kept replaying that Story she’d posted. The argument she’d overheard at Rick’s house. The comment she’d made about guys with long hair. The _looks_ she’d given him—like little stolen glances. And then, of course, her texts.

She’d told him to forget she’d said anything, but that was impossible. It was literally all he could think about now. Because he was still trying to figure out what the hell she’d meant.

Then he realized… fuck. Now Beth knew what a goddamn _wreck_ he was.

She probably wouldn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

And hell, it wasn’t like he could blame her. This was supposed to be a fun summer fling. Not something they _actually_ had to worry about. But between the dropped panties and the confrontations with Andrea, it was getting a little too real. A little too heavy.

Beth would surely turn tail and run at any moment. If she ever texted him back after tonight, that is.

God fucking dammit. He’d never wanted her to see just how worthless he really was. He’d thought that maybe, if he kept their fling inside some kind of… little bubble, away from the rest of the world and the other bullshit in his life, then it would remain fun, and maybe she’d see him as a retreat from the normal stresses of reality. But now it was all merging together and he could no longer keep that bubble contained. She’d witnessed first-hand just how cowardly he could be.

Yeah. If she hadn’t figured it out before now, Beth _definitely_ knew that he was a wreck.

He’d fucked this all up. And for what?

He couldn’t help but let his eyes drift across the table and linger on Andrea for several moments. And the longer he looked at her, the sicker he felt. 

Why did it feel like she was trying to ruin _everything_ good in his life…?

* * *

Nearly 45 minutes passed, and the group had started in on their second round of drinks. They were still talking about Andrea’s big case. Michonne and Rick were listening intently and nodding along, asking questions here and there. Daryl was still sitting silently, only chiming in when Andrea looked to him for reassurance.

Then Merle and Frankie walked in.

Daryl’s seat was facing the front door, so his brother’s familiar form caught his eye almost immediately. He looked over and saw the couple peering around curiously, so he waved them over. Merle had made no attempt to dress up—he was in his usual casual attire, although his maroon V-neck shirt was actually clean, so that was an improvement. Frankie looked like a model next to him, with her coppery red hair curled into perfect beach waves and a light layer of makeup on her face. She was wearing dark blue skinny jeans, black Chuck Taylors, and a sleeveless black blouse that was exceptionally tight. The neckline dipped down low and put her cleavage on full display.

Well. Merle was true to his word. And Frankie was always happy to play along, so Daryl really shouldn’t be surprised.

They approached cheerily, and while Rick and Michonne seemed genuinely happy to see the couple, Andrea remained sitting and just sighed.

She muttered under her breath, “Oh, great. They made it.” Daryl pretended not to hear her.

“What’s up, shitheads? Long time, no see!” Merle declared as he approached the table.

“Good t’see you too, Merle,” Rick chuckled. “Hey, Frankie.”

“Hey!” Frankie beamed, giving everyone a little wave of greeting.

“Good to see you, Frankie,” Michonne joked. “And Merle—well, it’s just _okay_ to see you.”

Merle threw his head back and laughed. “‘S alright, I know my Nubian Queen missed me more’an anybody!”

Michonne rolled her eyes while Rick laughed. Then Merle leaned forward and slapped Daryl on the shoulder. “Hey, baby brother! Y’order me a drink yet?”

Daryl shook his head, but before he could say anything, Andrea was interjecting. “No, we didn’t order anything for you guys yet. Don’t you wanna start your own tab?”

Merle’s grin disappeared and he turned his attention on Andrea. “Don’t worry, Sugartits, my girl’s got the tab tonight. Our _treat_.”

Michonne cut in, “Wait—the _whole_ tab? You really don’t have t’do that, Frankie.”

Frankie just shrugged and kept smiling. “No big deal. You guys paid the last couple times, so me an’ Merle figured it was our turn.”

“Eh,” Merle said. “ _She_ figured. I’m just goin’ along ‘cause she balances the checkbook.”

“You mean, because I wear the _pants_ ,” Frankie teased.

Everyone laughed at that.

Except for Andrea. “Actually, that reminds me—”

Daryl froze.

Oh no.

She pushed her chair back and stood up, then she was rifling in her purse from where it hung on the back of the chair. She extracted something and clutched it in her hand as she stepped around the table and came face-to-face with Merle and Frankie.

Daryl remained in his seat, watching from inches away and holding his breath. His heart sped up. He already knew what was coming.

Andrea shoved whatever was in her hand towards Frankie, who grabbed it with surprise, her expression turning to confusion.

“I think you _forgot_ something at Daryl’s house the other day,” Andrea said. Then she leaned back and stared down her nose at the redhead, arms crossed over her chest. Scowling at all that cleavage.

Frankie stared down at the object in her hands—the red panties. And for a second, she appeared completely baffled. She clearly did not have any idea where these panties had come from.

Andrea was watching Frankie expectantly, but Merle had flicked his eyes from the panties to Daryl’s face. He looked just as bewildered as his girlfriend. Until he met Daryl’s gaze. 

Daryl wasn’t entirely sure what the expression on his own face looked like, but he knew Merle would interpret it correctly.

And he did.

First, a wicked smirk curled Merle’s lips upward. Then, before Frankie had a chance to react otherwise, he barked out a laugh and snatched up the panties.

“Actually, those are _mine_ , thanky’verymuch.” He met Frankie’s eyes for the briefest second and she seemed to catch on, though her face had turned beet red.

She glanced over and noticed Daryl’s gaze, and then she _really_ seemed to catch on.

She laughed and looked at Andrea, a cool smile on her face. “Sorry about that. Guess we should take better inventory next time.”

Andrea was looking at Merle with refreshed disgust as he dangled the panties from his fingertip and grinned. Then she scowled at Frankie and asked, “ _Next_ time? Why did it even happen the _first_ time?”

Daryl interjected, “Told you, they was drunk an’ couldn’t drive home, an’ I wasn’t about ta step in an’ try to stop ‘em from doin’ whatever they did on my couch.”

Merle quickly backed Daryl up, panties still dangling from his finger right between him and Andrea. “You try’na tell me I ain’t allowed ta get my dick wet on my own brother’s couch?”

Andrea scoffed, repulsed. “Seriously?! This shouldn’t even be a _discussion_. It’s called _boundaries_ , Merle.”

“Well,” Frankie chimed in. “When the mood hits, ya just can’t resist.”

Andrea rolled her eyes, and her tone switched from disgust to suspicion. She glanced over at Daryl before asking, “And when did you guys even spend the night? Don’t you have your _own_ home to have sex in?”

Without missing a beat, Frankie quipped back, “It’s irresponsible to drive drunk. We had some beers at Daryl’s house—” she looked over at Merle “—what was that? Sunday night?” 

“Yeah,” Merle confirmed with the utmost confidence. “After ya got back from yer conference.” He glared back at Andrea with a smug little smirk. “Wanted ta spend some quality time with my baby brother. _He_ don’t mind if we stay the night every once in a while. An’ last I checked, that’s _his_ house.”

Andrea sighed and rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she muttered. “Can’t you guys just please be a _little_ more mindful? Leaving dirty underwear behind is kinda… irresponsible. And _trashy_.” She directed her gaze at Frankie and added, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Frankie shrugged, unapologetic. But Merle cackled. Then he held the panties up against his nose and took in a loud whiff. He inhaled deep and exhaled with a sigh of relief, grinning the whole time.

Andrea cringed, and Frankie pursed her lips to stifle a laugh. Michonne and Rick were watching with small smiles of amusement, stifling their own laughter. And Daryl was struggling not to bury his face in his hands.

Merle was still grinning devilishly as he pulled the panties away and said, “Who said they was dirty? ‘Cause from what I can tell, they’re seasoned _just right_.”

“Ugh, you’re repulsive,” Andrea remarked, then she rolled her eyes and went back to her seat while Merle shoved the panties into his pocket. He shot Daryl a sly wink.

Daryl was gonna fucking _kill him_.

But at the same time… goddamn. Did his obnoxious brother just save his fucking ass?

**to be continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to mention last chapter: I didn't really wanna portray Andrea as the "evil bitch who doesn't like kids." Because I don't like kids and am very adamantly childfree, so that definitely wasn't what I was going for. It's more about the fact that she staunchly does not want kids, but Daryl is already starting to change his mind, which just makes them all that much more incompatible.  
> So please don't think of Andrea and be like "that bitch who doesn't like kids" lmao some people just don't like kids and that's okay. She is a bitch for how she treats Daryl, though. And like... everything else.
> 
> Hope the Frankie introduction didn't disappoint. And sorry if you were hoping that Beth had left the panties on purpose lol I just couldn't see her doing something quite so petty! Not yet anyway :P


	16. oof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This night is just full of surprises.  
> Big oof.

**oof**

Frankie pulled a chair up to the table and joined in on the conversation between Michonne, Rick, and Andrea. But Daryl excused himself and went to the bar with Merle to order another round of drinks.

As soon as the Dixon brothers were far away from the table and crowded against the edge of the bar, waiting for one of the bartenders to take note of them, Merle leaned in close and pulled the panties from his pocket. He passed them into Daryl’s hand discreetly.

“Yer fuckin’ welcome,” he muttered.

Daryl clutched the panties tightly and, without even glancing at them, hurriedly hid them away in a deep inside pocket of his vest. He could feel his ears going red, but that was the very least of his worries.

“Thanks fer playin’ it off,” he grumbled.

Merle smirked. “Oughta thank Frankie fer playin’ it off. She’s the one that _really_ covered fer yer ass. Yer lucky I got such a smart broad at my side.”

“So’re you,” Daryl quipped. “I’ll thank her after I kick yer ass fer sniffin’ ‘em.”

Merle chortled. “Did my reputation as a pervert not jus’ _save yer ass_ , baby brother?”

Daryl glared back. “Still didn’t need ta _sniff_ ‘em.”

“Relax, they’re clean.” Merle rolled his eyes. “All I smelled was detergent. ‘S too bad, was hopin’ they’d be jus’ a li’l dirty.”

“You _tryin’_ ta get yer ass kicked?”

“Nah. Are you? ‘Cause once everybody finds out yer a pervert jus’ like me—”

Daryl punched him in the arm to shut him up.

Merle just cackled and waved down the bartender, who finally rushed over to take their order.

“Jack an’ Coke and a water,” Merle requested.

Daryl added, “And another Budweiser bottle an’ a vodka soda. Put all of it on our tab over there.”

The bartender nodded and said, “Okay, jus’ give me a few minutes, alright guys?”

The Dixon boys nodded in understanding and the bartender rushed off to fill a couple other orders before fetching their drinks.

Daryl was trying not to think about the panties shoved inside the pocket of his vest. But that little lump against his ribs was all he could feel. He didn’t know what he’d do with them—return them to Beth, most likely—but he couldn’t bear to just toss them into the garbage. Like he probably _should_. 

Because these were _the_ red panties. The ones that she’d been wearing in that first Snap. The ones that had sent him completely over the edge. He had no idea why she’d brought them along to begin with, seeing as she hadn’t found a need for underwear last weekend. But the very thought made his stomach flutter and his heart skip.

He believed her when she’d said it was an accident. He wasn’t stuck on _that_ detail—it was wondering what she’d originally had planned for those panties that was _really_ driving him crazy.

Goddammit. He was out with his _girlfriend_ right now. He shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts.

Shouldn’t be wondering what Beth was doing back at Rick’s house. If she was thinking about him. If she was keeping her phone in her hand all night with the hopes that he might steal away and text her.

This girl was a fucking _problem_.

Merle was gazing around, checking out the locals and scoping out the pool tables and dartboards.

“Wait,” Daryl said, hit with a sudden realization. “Why’d you order a water?”

Merle met his brother’s eyes and furrowed his brow. “Fer Frankie.”

“Yeah, but why ain’t she drinkin’?”

“Somebody’s gotta drive,” Merle said simply. “An’ she’s the responsible one. The hell you askin’ stupid questions for?”

Daryl shrugged. “She usually has at least a couple drinks. Even if she’s drivin’.”

“Well maybe she don’t feel like drinkin’ tonight,” Merle said, frowning. “Mind yer fuckin’ business.”

Daryl rolled his eyes and hunched over the edge of the bar. “Whatever.”

“Which one’a y’all’s drivin’ tonight? Didn’t see Rick or Michonne’s car outside,” Merle pondered.

“They wanted a DD, so I’m gonna take ‘em home.”

“Oh. Surprised Sugartits is lettin’ ya drive her precious BMW.”

“She won’t care once she’s drunk enough.”

Merle chuckled.

There was a second of silence, and Daryl’s thoughts immediately reverted back to Beth. But this time, he was thinking about their text conversation right before he’d arrived at the bar. Still trying to make sense of it. Racking his brain for the translation to her cryptic code.

He saw that the bartender was still rushing around to fill an order that had been put in before his and Merle’s, and Daryl figured while he had the chance, he could at least _try_ to get some sort of opinion on the matter.

Not that he expected Merle to know what the hell a “vibe check” was. But he could get an opinion. Even if it was an opinion that he would brush off and ignore. (Maybe he’d actually give it some consideration this time, seeing as Merle was always bluntly honest, and that’s kinda what Daryl wanted at the moment. Even if the blunt honesty was a little off-base.)

“Hey—”

Merle turned his head and met Daryl’s eyes expectantly.

“You think there’s somethin’ wrong with the way Andrea talks to me?”

Merle quirked an eyebrow and seemed to hesitate. “Uhh… why?”

Daryl tried to sound as indifferent as possible. “I’ono. Jus’ somethin’ Beth said.”

Merle’s expression immediately changed. His eyebrow rose higher and a curious smirk formed on his lips. “When the hell did Beth get a chance ta witness how Andrea talks to ya?”

Daryl glanced away in shame and muttered, “We stopped at Rick’s to pick him an’ Michonne up on the way here. Beth was there to babysit.”

Merle’s face lit up like a kid in a candy shop, but Daryl cut him off before he could make any crude comments.

“Me an’ Andrea had an argument in the kitchen an’ Beth walked in. I’ono how much she heard, but she texted me on the way here. It was… weird.”

Merle grinned wide. “Oh, _really_ now? Well, shit. Sounds like _blondie’s_ got a problem with the way Andrea talks to ya.”

“Should she, though?”

“ _Hah!_ ” Merle huffed out, half-amused and half-bitter. His grin promptly disappeared. “You bein’ serious?”

“What else would I be?”

“No, I mean—you want my _honest_ opinion? No bullshit?”

“I’ll prob’ly regret sayin’ this, but yeah. I do. No bullshit.”

Merle sighed and said, “Well, I tell ya what, Andrea seemed real nice at first. All pretty an’ polite—an’ yeah, she’s got a decent rack. But once ya get ta know ‘er, ya realize it’s all a _show_. She don’t like hardly nobody. I ain’t even sure she likes _herself_ at this point. She looks at everybody like they’re dogshit on the bottom of ‘er shoe. Talks to ‘em the same, too. An’ that’s about a hundred times better’an the way she talks to _you_. She’s a fuckin’ bitch.”

He paused like he was expecting to be reprimanded for his comment.

But Daryl didn’t say anything. He just pursed his lips and nodded.

Merle wasn’t smiling or mocking him. Which was a surprise. Then he went on, “Can’t say I’d ever let a broad talk to _me_ like that, no matter _how much_ I loved her. But listen—yer kinks ain’t none’a my business, baby brother. I thought you _liked_ bein’ treated like shit. Thought maybe you was one’a them weirdos that’s into bein’ humiliated in public or somethin’. But if it don’t get yer rocks off, then why the fuck you still keepin’ this cunt around?”

Daryl’s eyes flashed and he knew he should be defending Andrea. Yet his mouth remained tightly shut.

Merle gave Daryl a chance to respond. And when Daryl didn’t say anything, Merle smirked. His eyes glinted icy blue.

“So Beth don’t like seein’ ya get yer nose smacked with a rolled-up newspaper? ‘Cause that’s what _I’m_ gettin’ outta this.”

Daryl shrugged. “I’on’t fuckin’ know.”

Merle chuckled knowingly. “Jesus Christ, you really are _stupid_. Open yer goddamn eyes, dumbass. Blondie ain’t a _fuck_ buddy no more if she’s got a problem with the way yer _girlfriend_ treats ya.”

Daryl tensed and responded with an edge of defensiveness, “How you figure?”

Merle shook his head like he was exasperated. “Do I really gotta spell it out for ya? Ain’t you read enough’a them _damn romance novels_ by now?”

“Fuck off.”

“Nah, I ain’t teasin’. I’m dead-ass serious. You better listen up—this girl might be trouble, but all she seen was a few minutes of the _shitshow_ that you call a relationship, an’ she done decided it ain’t right. An’ she _said_ somethin’. ‘Cause that’s how her daddy raised her. Them Greene girls don’t know how to keep their mouths shut. But ya know _why_ she said somethin’, don’tcha?”

Daryl averted his gaze. But Merle didn’t let up.

“Can’t fool me. I know you ain’t _that_ fuckin’ retarded. Even yer emotionally-stunted big brother can see it, so what does _that_ tell ya? This girl _gives a shit_ about you, Daryl. A _real_ shit.”

“‘Cause that’s who she is,” Daryl said, almost reflexively. “She gives a shit about everybody.”

Merle rolled his eyes. “Oh, Christ.” He shook his head and chuckled. “No, she doesn’t. You know damn well she ain’t the prissy li’l _church_ girl she pretends to be.”

Then he paused and barked out a laugh. Daryl bristled but kept his mouth shut. He didn’t know how he could possibly deflect at this point.

Merle continued to smirk as he said, “Ol’ Merle’s a lot more observant than ya think. I seen the way you was lookin’ at her the other night—but I saw the way _she_ was lookin’ at _you_ , too.” He let out a low whistle. “ _Oo-ee_ , li’l brother. Never in all my days have I seen a college chick eyeball a guy the way blondie was eyeballin’ _your_ scummy ass all goddamn night.”

Daryl didn’t like the way Merle’s words were hitting his ears. It was causing all sorts of troublesome thoughts to brew in his head. And they were certainly all wrong.

Merle might be in a healthy relationship, and he might kinda know what he was talking about. Maybe just a little. But that didn’t mean he knew the first fucking thing about what _Beth Greene_ really wanted.

So Daryl just shook his head and grunted. He kept his eyes on the bartender across the way, rather than meeting Merle’s scrutinizing—and slightly mocking—gaze. Merle snorted in amusement. As though Daryl’s wordless response had proven him right.

Daryl muttered, “‘S stupid. Maybe I’m retarded, but I ain’t _that_ retarded. It’s just a summer fling. She’s still got a boyfriend, an’ she’s gonna be goin’ back to New Orleans next week.”

“Oh, really?” Merle countered. “‘Cause me an’ Frankie just got a fish. Bought a whole tank an’ everything. Got one’a them little Spongebob pineapple houses that sits in the gravel.”

Daryl shot him a confused look. “Huh?”

Merle laughed. “Oh, sorry, I thought we was talkin’ ‘bout shit that don’t matter.”

Daryl groaned. “Fuck off.”

“Seriously, asshole. Yer skewed perception doesn’t mean diddly-squat.”

“Ain’t my perception. It’s _fact_. She don’t want nothin’ more.”

“But you do.”

“No, I don’t. Shut up.”

Merle nudged Daryl in the side and continued relentlessly, “Yeah, you fuckin’ do. Y’know it’s a fuckin’ _miracle_ Andrea believed you, ‘cause yer a _terrible_ fucking liar. Like—holy shit, yer so transparent, an’ here I was thinkin’ I taught ya how to bluff! Damn shame on the Dixon name, that’s what this is.”

“Fuck off,” Daryl grumbled, still not meeting his brother’s eyes. 

Merle laughed. “I _knew_ you couldn’t handle the truth. I’ono why ya even asked.”

“Thought you might have an opinion worth considering,” Daryl said. “Should’a known better.”

“Only ‘cause my opinion is _right_ , an’ you _hate_ admittin’ when I’m right.”

“Nah, yer opinion is fuckin’ stupid. The fuck you think I’mma get outta this? Y’think I should dump Andrea an’ start chasin’ some college chick just ‘cause she likes fuckin’ me while she’s home fer the summer. Yer outta yer fuckin’ mind.”

“Yeah, well,” Merle said matter-of-factly. “Y’all already went _this_ far. Might as well go all the way.”

Daryl did _not_ like thinking about it that way. He pursed his lips and kept his eyes on the bartender, who was quickly approaching.

Merle chuckled and leaned in to quietly add, “In for a _penny_ , in for a _pound_ , little brother.”

* * *

Daryl was nearly finished with his third beer, and Andrea was over at the bar, ordering another round. Conversation at the table drifted wildly now that Frankie and Merle were present. But Rick and Michonne seemed endlessly amused, and Rick’s face had already turned bright red at least twice.

Daryl kept to himself for the most part, though he couldn’t help but chime in here and there. Usually to jokingly bag on his brother. Mostly to back Andrea up, or defuse a potential argument between her and Merle.

“—an’ the only way Prozac works for me is if I snort it!”

Frankie slapped Merle on the arm and said, “What have I told you about snorting antidepressants? Those things are _expensive_ , dickhead.”

Rick and Michonne shared a laugh, and then Andrea was returning with an armful of fresh drinks, which she set out on the table before taking her seat. Daryl thanked her and grabbed up what he decided would be his final beer of the night to take a swig. He was already catching a decent buzz. Might as well not push it if he was gonna drive.

Michonne looked across the table at Daryl and asked, “So where are Dwight and Sherry tonight? I thought you might’ve shot them an invitation.”

Daryl shrugged. “Dwight said sum’n ‘bout spendin’ the weekend down in Savannah with Sherry’s parents.”

“That’s too bad,” Andrea commented. Though Daryl had a feeling she didn’t really care that the other couple couldn’t join.

“Well I hope they’re havin’ fun,” Rick said.

“Oh yeah, a weekend with the in-laws sounds like _barrels_ of fun,” Merle joked.

Frankie shot him a playful scowl and said, “Excuse me, but you said you _like_ my mom.”

“I do! She’s a tough ol’ broad,” Merle said. “But yer dad’s a cocksucker. Gotta stop myself from punchin’ him in the throat every time he talks.”

Rick and Michonne laughed, and Frankie just rolled her eyes. 

“You an’ me both,” she muttered right before taking a sip of water.

This time, Daryl joined in on the laughter. But when he glanced over and caught Andrea’s eye, she was frowning.

“Just be grateful you still _have_ parents,” she said.

The laughter stopped abruptly.

“ _Yikes_ ,” Merle remarked. “Fuckin’ buzzkill over here.”

Andrea’s eyes widened and she set her sights on Merle, opening her mouth to reprimand him, but Michonne quickly interjected and changed the subject entirely.

“So, Frankie—not to be rude, but I have to ask.” She gestured to the glass in Frankie’s hand. “Water? On a _Saturday_ night?”

Rick added in with a teasing chuckle, “Yeah, that’s weird. I don’t think I’ve ever seen ya step inside a bar without takin’ at least _one_ tequila shot.”

Merle cackled and nudged his girlfriend, whose face was blooming pink as she attempted to laugh it off. “Damn, they got you pegged to a T, huh babe?”

“Well,” Frankie said, glancing around at everyone before she went on. “That’s kinda what we wanted to announce tonight—“

Michonne gasped. “Oh my god.”

Rick’s jaw dropped. “Wait— _what_?”

Andrea pursed her lips and sat stiffly.

And Daryl didn’t know _what_ to say. He reckoned he should’ve been expecting this after that conversation with Merle the other night. But it was certainly a hell of a lot sooner than he’d thought it would be.

Frankie beamed. “I’m pregnant!”

Merle asked with a completely straight face, “Who’s the dad?”

Everyone laughed. Except Andrea, who was just rolling her eyes. 

Frankie gave Merle a smack on the arm. “ _You_ are, old man!”

Merle grinned and barked out a laugh, then he turned to everyone else and declared, “That’s right, assholes! Merle Dixon’s li’l swimmers are still strong as hell! I knocked my girl up!”

“Holy shit, Merle,” Rick said. “Yer gonna be a daddy.”

“Holy shit,” Michonne echoed. “Merle Dixon’s gonna be someone’s _dad_.”

 _Holy shit,_ Daryl thought. _I’m gonna be an actual uncle. And Merle’s gonna have a kid. A living, breathing child._

Andrea just smiled politely and said, “Wow. Congratulations, you two!”

Frankie was blushing and giggling from all the attention. “Thanks, guys. We’re pretty excited.”

“How far along are you?” Michonne asked with a smile.

“About eight weeks,” Frankie replied. 

“So,” Rick asked. “The due date is?”

“Tentatively set to be February,” Frankie explained. “But we’ll see, especially considering this is my first pregnancy.”

“Damn,” Daryl muttered, but his mouth was tugging up into a smile. He clapped his hand on Merle’s shoulder and said, “Congrats, man. Didn’t realize it’d happen so soon.”

Merle shrugged. “Wasn’t sure it would. She jus’ took a test last week, an’ yesterday was the first appointment. Sure enough, I put a baby up in there!”

Frankie rolled her eyes and nudged him with her elbow. “Alright, calm down before your head gets so big that ya start floatin’ away.” She went on more seriously, “We really didn’t expect it to happen so quickly. I mean, we actually started trying like, last year, I guess. But we thought it would be another year or so before anything happened.”

“Oh,” Rick said, flashing Merle a teasing smirk. “‘Cause of Merle’s rapidly-depleting sperm count, right?”

Everyone laughed (except Andrea, who just rolled her eyes in disgust).

Merle shot back, “Should I start callin’ you _Doctor_ Friendly?” He chuckled and added, “Nah actually, wasn’t even me with the problem.” He jerked his thumb towards Frankie. “It’s _this one_.”

Michonne began to reprimand him, “Merle—”

But Frankie interjected with a laugh, “No, it’s okay. It’s true. I’m not ashamed.”

Merle glanced over at his girlfriend with a crooked smile and said, “What was it yer doctor said? Yer pussy’s sideways or sum’n? ‘Cause I sure as hell never noticed.” He cackled.

“First of all, it’s called a tilted cervix. And secondly, you’ve never _been_ inside my cervix, so of course you didn’t notice.”

“I know. ‘Cause it’s sideways.”

Once again, everyone at the table burst into laughter. Except Andrea. 

Daryl just kept sipping his beer and praying that his buzz would last him through the rest of the night.

* * *

The group sat around at the table for a bit longer, while Michonne and Rick questioned Merle and Frankie with excitement. Michonne wanted to know if Frankie was hoping for a boy or a girl, and if they had any names picked out yet, but Rick wanted to know if they needed references for the best babysitters, daycares, and preschools. He was also eager to start planning playdates for this baby that was currently no more than an embryo. He grinned at the prospect of Judith having a family friend close to her age.

Daryl had to admit that he was pretty excited for his brother, but not at all in the way Rick and Michonne were. Because this excitement came with a few other emotions that he didn’t quite recognize. Mixed with emotions that he’d never expected to pop up again.

For the first time in a decade, he was starting to feel left behind.

He didn’t let himself dwell too long on that thought, though. He was still trying to fight back thoughts of Beth. He kept thinking he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but he knew there would be no new notifications. He was hoping in vain, anyway. Wasn’t like he could pull his phone out and start texting her while his girlfriend was two feet away.

They wound up abandoning the table and wandering over to one of the pool tables as soon as it freed up to play a game of three-on-three. It was supposed to be men vs. women, but Andrea protested and insisted that she needed Daryl on her team because of her lack of skills. Frankie rolled her eyes, but Rick agreed and switched them all around until he was on Merle and Frankie’s team, and Michonne, Andrea, and Daryl were on the other.

A few shots in, Merle stepped away to order another round of drinks, and Daryl was finishing his final beer. Conversation drifted back to Frankie’s pregnancy, and while Andrea was lining up her shot, Frankie stepped closer to Rick and Michonne, a serious expression on her face.

“It’s probably way too early to be thinkin’ about this or asking about it,” she said. “But um, me an’ Merle were talking about godparents. Ya know, in case anything were ta happen to us. And—well, what would you guys think? About being our baby’s godparents?”

Rick’s eyes went wide and he blinked, quickly glancing over to Michonne, who was also wide-eyed. But she was grinning.

“Seriously?”

Frankie blushed, shrugging. “I just—we don’t know any other couples nearly as responsible as you two. My brother’s an idiot, I wouldn’t trust him as far as I can throw him. And my best friend lives in another country now, with four kids of her own. Merle actually suggested it first.”

Rick’s jaw dropped. “He _did_?”

She chuckled. “Yeah, he did. He kind of admires you guys. In his own way.” She glanced over her shoulder to assure that Merle was still waiting at the bar. Then she added jokingly, “Don’t tell him I told you that.”

Michonne laughed, but Rick looked like he was still trying to comprehend the question. “Wow. This is…”

“Such an honor,” Michonne finished for him, meeting Frankie’s eyes and smiling warmly. “We’d be delighted, Frankie. And don’t worry—yer secret’s safe with us.” She winked.

Frankie laughed. “Thank you so much! I mean, you can feel free to rescind your agreement at any time. If you change your minds. Obviously this is a ways off.”

Rick shook his head. “Nah, nah. I agree with ‘Chonne. An’ hey, that nine months goes by a lot faster’an ya think.”

“I’d actually recommend you get a headstart on the paperwork before you find yourself buried beneath a mountain of spit-up-stained onesies and poopy diapers,” Michonne joked.

Andrea interjected from where she was standing at the other end of the pool table, having been waiting patiently for the others to finish their conversation so they could continue the game, “Rick, you’re up.”

Daryl remained quiet. His head was racing with this new information.

He wasn’t sure why, but he was wondering why Merle didn’t ask him and Andrea to be the godparents. Frankie had her own reasons for not considering her brother, but what was Merle’s reason for not considering _his_ brother? Did he not think Daryl was responsible enough?

Well. Okay. He had a feeling it probably wasn’t _entirely_ about his shortcomings. Andrea’s opinions on child-rearing were well-known.

And… well… Daryl couldn’t blame Merle for not wanting her to be the godmother to his kid.

Fuck. That was an awful thing to think, wasn’t it?

Then, while Rick was taking his shot and Frankie and Michonne were chatting about newborns, Andrea sidled over closer to Daryl. She nudged him softly and leaned in.

“Looks like we dodged a huge bullet there, huh?” She whispered, a smirk on her face.

He grunted and hoped that she took it as his agreement.

But he could not have agreed less.

**to be continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who can't quite keep up with the slang and text speak, don't worry. Daryl is just as confused as you are. He will soon be finding out what all these terms mean. Thankfully, Frankie is still young enough to be somewhat in the loop.  
> But for the text speak... I trust that you all know how to utilize Google :)
> 
> [source for: "the only way Prozac works for me is if I snort it"](https://fb.watch/3UkarBP8QX/)
> 
> Do y'all think Merle should have a son or a daughter? Which one sounds more entertaining to you? I'm kinda thinking a girl, just so he can really be scared out of his mind. But I'm not sure yet. Open to suggestions.


	17. feeling some type of way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between Merle's nagging and those (way too serious) texts from Beth, Daryl is finally starting to notice some things. And noticing things is a fucking buzzkill.
> 
> Gettin' all caught up in his damn feelings is all he's doing.

**feeling some type of way**

As the night went on, Daryl’s buzz began to fade, as did his thoughts of Beth. At least for the time being.

He was too caught up in pool games, and conversations about kids and legal cases and just general bullshit. Too busy with paying attention to all the social cues and trying to remain as present as possible. Trying to return every little show of affection from his girlfriend in order to avoid agitating her.

But while Daryl was sobering up, Andrea was getting drunk, ordering one vodka soda after another. She stuck close to Michonne for the most part, but Daryl could tell she was biting her tongue a lot, especially when it came to Merle’s comments. She was already annoyed that Merle had played some Journey songs and a bunch of 80s pop on the jukebox.

“Ugh,” she remarked while they were playing pool. “I can’t stand this shitty music. _Of_ _course_ he has to play this crap.”

Merle paid her no mind. When _Talk Dirty To Me_ came on, he sang along and danced like an idiot, and Daryl refused to look at him because he kept grinning _all_ too knowingly in Daryl’s direction.

Fucking asshole.

At one point, conversation drifted to Merle and Frankie’s relationship, and Rick pondered aloud how Frankie could put up with such a crass guy—in a friendly and joking manner, of course. Merle, however, took the question seriously. (He was also on his sixth drink, which meant he was feeling particularly cocky.)

“Well, see here, Grimes,” Merle boasted, chest puffed out like he was offering words of wisdom. “The fastest way to a man’s heart is—”

Andrea interjected abruptly, and confidently, “Through his stomach.” 

Merle made a loud buzzer sound, “ _EHH!_ Wrong!” He slapped his hand down on the edge of the pool table and grinned smugly. “It’s through his _dick_. Don’t matter how good ya can cook or clean, what matters is how well you can _pop_ that _pussy_ , girlfrien’. An’ that’s _on God_!” He threw his head back and laughed.

Frankie just rolled her eyes with a smile and remarked, “Okay, but my cooking is a huge part of it, too.”

Rick and Michonne chuckled. But Andrea scowled.

“Maybe that’s all that matters for a _shallow_ man like you, Merle,” she said.

“Relax,” Daryl muttered, shooting her a look. “‘S just a joke.”

Andrea turned her scowl on Daryl and arched an eyebrow. “You think _that’s_ a joke? So, what—are you _agreeing_ with him?”

Before Daryl could argue back, Michonne stepped forward and gestured towards the pool table.

“Andrea, I think it’s your shot,” she said. “And if you don’t make this one, me an’ Rick are gonna have _all_ the bragging rights.”

When Andrea wasn’t looking, Daryl flashed Michonne a discreet look of gratuity. She simply smiled and took a _long_ swig of beer.

* * *

It kinda fucking sucked being the only sober one in the group besides the pregnant chick. Because Daryl knew that he could probably drink until those panties in his vest pocket were forgotten. If he drank enough, he could probably push Beth out of his head entirely. At least for the night.

But no. He had to be the goddamn designated driver.

He had to stand around and sip water and watch his friends and his girlfriend get drunk and careless, while his mind kept inadvertently scrutinizing everything he saw and heard.

He didn’t _mean_ to. He’d tried not to think about Beth at all. He really did try.

But in a way, he wasn’t thinking about _her_. He was thinking about what she’d said.

Those texts were practically burned into his brain.

 _“Do you ever hear Michonne talk to Rick like that?”_ _  
_ _“I’m pretty sure Merle’s gf doesn’t say that kinda stuff to him, does she?”_

He kept thinking about it. And thinking about it. And _fucking_ thinking about it. 

And he was slowly realizing that… wow. He’d never really _thought about it_ before.

Daryl paid closer attention to how the other couples interacted, even under the influence of alcohol. He observed the expressions on their faces, the tones in their voices, the ways they showed physical affection. 

Secretly, he was comparing it all. Measuring it. Trying to imagine how it might be different behind closed doors.

In all honesty, he knew full well how Merle and Frankie’s relationship operated “behind closed doors.” He’d heard more than he ever wanted to know from his brother. Frankie had a tendency to overshare, too. And Daryl had been to their home on multiple occasions, just as they’d been to his home often. He’d witnessed them having arguments, both drunk and sober. But they always made up soon after, or simply brushed it off because it wasn’t worth fighting about. 

And for the most part, he knew how Rick and Michonne’s relationship operated behind closed doors, too. Rick had told him enough. And well, Daryl knew Rick pretty damn well by now, and he also knew the whole story with Lori and how that had crumbled to pieces despite two kids and a decade-long marriage. Not to mention, Daryl knew Michonne pretty well, too, and Michonne was _always_ the same, whether she was in public or private. She never tried to be something she wasn’t, and she sure as hell wouldn’t still be with Rick if he didn’t understand her in a way that no one else could. And vise versa.

Nonetheless, Daryl had never really _watched_ the couples together. He’d never paid much attention to just how their relationships worked. He’d never thought to compare the workings of his own relationship.

Until now. Until Beth had started making him _think_.

(Goddamn. This girl really was a problem.)

 _“Why do you let her talk to you like that?”_ _  
_ _“…she talks to you like she can’t stand you.”_ _  
_ _“There’s vibe checks and then there’s… whatever your gf is doing.”_ _  
_ _“It just doesn’t really seem right.”_

 _“Why do you let her talk to you like that?”_ _  
_ _“It just doesn’t really seem right.”_

_“Why do you let her talk to you like that?”_

Daryl kept wondering, like fucking what?!

_“It just doesn’t really seem right.”_

Then he began to see it.

While the group finished up their last pool game, Andrea made a comment about how Daryl’s overgrown hair was obscuring his view and preventing him from making a decent shot.

Merle scoffed and remarked, “Boy should jus’ be glad he’s still _got_ hair.” He rubbed his balding head and shot Andrea a sarcastic smirk.

Andrea rolled her eyes and snapped, “Shut the fuck up, Merle.”

Frankie laughed and shared an amused look with Merle.

Daryl took note.

A short while later, once they’d all grown tired of pool and migrated back to a table with enough seats for their group, they were ordering their next round of drinks and joking around. Andrea mentioned something about how she never quite knew what to wear to a “place like this,” to which Michonne remarked that she didn’t think there was a dress code. Andrea’s eyes flicked over and lingered on Daryl’s shirt and she frowned. He shot her an apologetic half-smile.

“Yeah,” he said, plucking at a button on his plaid button-up. “I tried ta look presentable, but I don’t own many shirts without holes. I’m a mess.”

Andrea chuckled and said, “What else is new.”

But Rick quickly chimed in, “Hey, I’m right there with ya. Look at this damn stain—” he laughed and pointed to a spot near the collar of his dark blue button-up. “—looks like I was eatin’ chicken wings drunk! _I’m_ the mess!”

Michonne laughed and leaned in to nudge his arm affectionately. “You’re a mess alright. A _hot_ mess.”

Rick grinned and nudged her back, then he did his corniest Austin Powers impression: “Oh, _be-have_!”

Michonne giggled and squeezed Rick’s arm. And instead of rolling her eyes or telling him to stop being embarrassing, she simply gazed over at him like he was the most captivating person she’d ever laid eyes on.

Daryl took note.

But Merle audibly gagged and exclaimed, “Get a fuckin’ room!”

Frankie chimed in, “Preferably in jail, because that Austin Powers reference should be considered a criminal offense.”

Both couples shared a laugh at that. Drunken and gleeful. Andrea just smiled stiffly.

Daryl took note once again.

He sunk into his seat and took a long drink of water. Observing. _Thinking._

He glanced over at Andrea and saw her draining the rest of her vodka soda. His stomach twisted.

Throughout the night, she’d made him the butt of the joke several times. Or attempted to do such. He felt like he was constantly on a stage, preparing for criticism. Everything was up for grabs: his appearance, his opinions, even his silence. And he found himself comparing that tinge of scrutiny in her tone—that tinge of embarrassment he always felt—to the tones in Michonne and Frankie’s voices, and the emotions he could sense from Merle and Rick.

To his great disappointment, he found it all incomparable. Because he couldn’t help but notice that Michonne teased Rick for being an overprotective dad, for being corny, for playing pool badly and getting tipsy off four beers. Yet she always spoke with affection and endearment. As much as she teased him, she encouraged him. Behind every joke was a compliment, and with every look they shared, the love was palpable.

The same could be said for Frankie, though in her own way. Merle was a handful, that much was for certain. Always had been, always would be. There was no changing some of his worst habits at this point. Yet Frankie didn’t seem agitated. Even when he did things that most other women would be appalled by, she just brushed it off. She laughed at all his stupid jokes, no matter how crude or poorly-timed they were. And whenever he acted obnoxious, she just rolled her eyes affectionately. Sometimes, it seemed like she was downright _encouraging_ him to be obnoxious.

And there was a time or two when Daryl caught her gazing over at his brother with the same look of adoration that Michonne had when she looked at Rick.

But that was normal—Frankie looked at Merle like that all the time.

Yet for whatever reason, Daryl had never really taken note of it.

Tonight, he did.

Then, right in the middle of a conversation about the new restaurant that was supposed to open up in town, a woman in tight black short-shorts walked past the table. Merle stopped mid-sentence and turned his head to stare at her ass with reckless disregard, a wicked smile on his face.

As soon as the woman was out of earshot, he let out a low whistle and turned back to glance at everyone around the table. “Christ almighty, y’all see that ass? I could eat _dinner_ off that thing!”

Daryl was the only sober one, so he was the only one who frowned and tensed up. He glanced over and caught Andrea’s gaze to see that she was sneering and rolling her eyes. She pushed her chair back and grabbed her empty glass, heading towards the bar without a word.

But Frankie was craning her head around to stare after the girl that Merle was commenting on. “Oh damn, she’s thick.” And then she rolled her eyes, smirking. She turned back to Merle and said, “You wouldn’t even know what to _do_ with a girl like that.”

Rick and Michonne laughed loudly.

“Nah,” Merle quipped, his eyes now set solely on Frankie as a devilish smile curled his lips upward. “But I sure know what ta do with a girl like _you_.”

Frankie’s cheeks bloomed red and she smacked Merle’s arm playfully. “Oh my god—shut _up_ , you creep!”

Merle cackled and leaned in, snaking an arm behind her back while he leaned down to nibble at her neck. “Shuddup, I know you _love_ this creep, ya depraved li’l bitch.”

Frankie giggled and pretended to push him away, and all the while, Rick and Michonne were watching and laughing, shaking their heads.

“ _Now_ who needs ta get a room?” Rick joked.

Daryl, on the other hand, was sitting quietly in his seat, watching with a casual smile and grasping his water glass a little tighter than necessary. He would normally be peeved by Merle and Frankie’s overt PDA, but that wasn’t the part that was bothering him.

Not even close.

He was taking note of how Merle and Frankie talked to one another. How they showed affection. How they flirted.

And very suddenly, he realized something.

Christ. They _openly_ talked to each other the same way that Daryl and Beth _secretly_ talked through text messages.

(And between sheets, and beneath shower heads, and in the cab of his truck, and on his kitchen counter, and…)

Could it really be like that all the time? Was he _capable_ of having something like that?

Did he even deserve it?

Daryl glanced over to see Andrea waiting at the bar for the bartender to notice her.

And he didn’t want to, but he began to wonder if he’d been played for a fool this whole time.

Had he somehow been convinced that this was the best he could get? Even when something so much better was (possibly) being presented?

Then again… how the fuck would he know? Just the fact that _any_ woman, let alone Andrea or Frankie, would be interested in committing to a Dixon boy was enough to render him clueless. Every single bit of it seemed too good to be true.

He’d told himself that Merle had gotten lucky. Like— _really fucking lucky._ Jackpot at the penny slots, fuckin’ lottery win from a scratch-off lucky. Women like Frankie were one in a goddamn million, and Merle had just so happened to land himself some really good fucking karma. Despite everything.

Hell, maybe he’d earned it in some way. Maybe he’d done enough self-sacrificial shit over the years to balance the scales and grant himself a literal Godsend. 

Nah. This kinda thing was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. And Daryl knew better than to expect to find a perfectly compatible relationship that was anywhere _near_ what his brother had stumbled upon.

He might be a little stupid, but he wasn’t naive.

And when it came to Rick and Michonne… well, Rick was just a really great guy. He’d _always_ been good. He’d _always_ tried his best. He’d been raised right, and he’d paid his penance with his first failed marriage. But he was a damn good friend and a damn good father, and he deserved nothing less than a partner like Michonne. Who was also an amazing person, and someone that Daryl could never ever picture in a bad light. So they deserved each other. Their karma had been cashed out accordingly.

That made sense. Folks like them were destined for each other; bound to find their way together, because they were such genuinely good people who deserved acceptance and happiness. 

For the last two years, Daryl had been certain that what he’d found with Andrea was the best he could hope for. The most he deserved.

But… fuck. 

What if he _shouldn’t_ be certain of it? What if it wasn’t even true? 

Once again, Beth Greene was making him second-guess… fucking _everything_.

* * *

Daryl was beginning to grow agitated. Not at anything in particular. No, it was a combination of everything.

From the snide, drunken comments that Andrea kept making, to the sly, knowing looks that Merle kept giving him. From having to be sober while he watched Rick and Michonne and Andrea and Merle get drunker and drunker, to realizing that he was overthinking absolutely fucking everything.

His thoughts kept lingering.

Fucking _lingering_.

On Beth and her texts. ( _“Why do you let her talk to you like that?”_ ) On the things Merle had said. ( _“In for a penny, in for a pound, little brother.”_ ) On the realization that Merle didn’t want Daryl to be his kid’s godfather. (He wasn’t personally offended by Merle and Frankie’s choice. But he couldn’t deny that he was a little hurt.)

Shortly after 11, he decided that he could no longer take it. He needed a goddamn distraction if he was going to actually enjoy this night out with his friends. So he ordered another beer and decided that it really _would_ be his last. Especially considering he was already way too sober. One or two more drinks wouldn’t impede his ability to drive.

He was standing at the bar, waiting for the bartender to notice him, when he felt a vibration in his pocket. But he chose to ignore it. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw that Andrea and Michonne had wandered over to a dartboard in the corner, and Rick, Frankie, and Merle were heading that way with drinks in hand. 

Then the bartender approached. Daryl ordered a beer and waited a few seconds. Once a cold bottle was in his hand, he took a hearty swig and meandered his way over to the dartboard.

Rick stood off to the side and watched, while Merle and Frankie were standing a few feet behind Andrea and Michonne. Andrea was poised with a dart in her hand, about to throw it at the board. Merle was pretending to aim the dart in his hand at the back of her head while no one was looking. Frankie put a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. 

Daryl decided to side-step the group entirely and head off for the restroom. He’d only taken a couple of trips throughout the night, but either Merle or Rick had accompanied him each time, so he hadn’t gotten the chance to so much as pull his phone out. Didn’t wanna risk it, considering he’d never been the type to check his phone religiously, especially while he was at a bar. And he was doing his best to avoid any more invasive questions from Merle.

He really did have to pee, though. So that was the first thing he did as soon as the restroom door closed behind him. Then he washed his hands and gave his reflection a brief glance in the mirror.

Yeah, Andrea was right. He was always a mess. Wasn’t much he could do for it, though.

Then he pulled his phone out and checked the screen. There was one new notification from Instagram.

His heart leapt. He immediately unlocked the phone and found the full notification.

_New message from greene.with.envy_

What were the fucking odds?

He glanced over his shoulder to assure that no one was stepping through the door. Then he retreated into a stall and locked it before he tapped on the notification.

A brand new DM between him and Beth filled the screen of his phone. She’d sent a dimly-lit selfie of her and Judith snuggling in Judith’s toddler bed. And she’d added a message.

_Guess you really do have a thing for babysitters, huh? ;)_

Daryl’s heart dropped. 

Fuck. He’d thought—he’d _hoped_ —that Andrea’s voice had been too low for Beth to hear what she’d said.

Should’ve known better.

_notthatdixon: Shit you heard that?_

He wasn’t even sure if she’d reply right away. It had been a solid five minutes since her first message.

But then _Typing…_ appeared. He held his breath until her response popped up.

_greene.with.envy: Yeah. Sorry._

He typed back as fast as he could and hit Send.

 _notthatdixon: Not babysitters plural_ _  
_ _notthatdixon: But one babysitter…_ _  
_ _notthatdixon: So yeah. Guess I do._

 _greene.with.envy: Oh :)_ _  
_ _greene.with.envy: You alone rn?_ _  
_ _greene.with.envy: I just put Judith back down and Carl’s not supposed to be home for another 45 minutes_

 _notthatdixon: Only for a minute_ _  
_ _notthatdixon: In the bathroom_ _  
_ _notthatdixon: Merle covered for me with the panties btw_

 _greene.with.envy: Thank God!!_ _  
_ _greene.with.envy: Guess he’s not so bad as everybody thinks huh lol_

_notthatdixon: He can be okay sometimes but don’t go giving him too much credit_

_greene.with.envy: Lol don’t worry, I won’t_ _  
_ _greene.with.envy: Hope you enjoy the rest of your night_

Wait. She was gonna end the conversation already? Just like that?

He started racking his brain, thumbs hovered over the keyboard, trying to come up with ways he could keep this going. Just for a couple more minutes. 

But then she was _Typing…_ again. So he waited.

_greene.with.envy: Idk if you’ll have the chance but text me later if you can :)_

_notthatdixon: What for?_

Fuck. Shouldn’t have sent that. Stupid thing to say.

He just didn’t know what the fuck _else_ to say. He almost felt awkward considering he was still thinking about what she’d texted him a few hours ago.

_greene.with.envy: Oh Idk. You don’t have to if you don’t want._

_notthatdixon: Didn’t say I don’t want to_ _  
_ _notthatdixon: But how late you think you’ll be up tonight ?_

 _greene.with.envy: Well I’ve been napping on and off all day so…_ _  
_ _greene.with.envy: Pretty late :)_

 _notthatdixon: Ok sounds good_ _  
_ _notthatdixon: Ttyl Greene_

She Liked his last message but didn’t respond. 

He tore himself away and backed out of the conversation before deleting it.

Though he took the extra few seconds to save the photo she’d sent and upload it to his secret folder before deleting it permanently.

Felt kinda weird to save it secretly. It wasn’t even a naughty photo.

But damn, it was just too good.

Too _Beth_.

He _had_ to save it.

**to be continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another huuuuge shoutout to **wallflow3r** for helping me form the scenes in this chapter <3


	18. a hot minute past the barn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl has decided that he might need some advice. So he asks for it.  
> Big mistake. Huge.

**a hot minute past the barn**

Daryl had no idea what he was walking into once he emerged from the restroom and grabbed up his beer. But he could hear Andrea’s voice clear across the bar, and he already knew she was yelling at Merle. Even before he swiftly walked over with hopes of defusing the situation.

Sure enough, Merle and Andrea were in an argument about something stupid. Merle was laughing, which only proved to make Andrea—who was already drunk—all that much angrier. 

By the time Daryl walked up, Frankie was stepping in between them, and Michonne was grabbing Andrea by the arm and doing her best to calm the blonde down.

“Okay, I think you’ve made it pretty clear that you don’t think he’s funny,” Frankie said, her voice raised a little higher than usual, but not yelling, as she pushed Merle back and faced Andrea. “Just drop it, okay? It was a _joke_. He’s _drunk_. And so are you.”

Andrea fumed and set her sights on Frankie, but her words came out slurred. “Listen’ere, little girl, I don’t give a _rat’s ass_ whether it’as a joke er not—”

Frankie sputtered out an indignant laugh and took a step towards Andrea, cutting her off sharply. “ _Little girl?_ You’re not anyone’s _mommy_ , so how about you just take a second to reconsider your next words before you get laid the fuck out by a _pregnant_ _woman_.”

“ _Ha!_ ” Merle exclaimed gleefully. “You tell ‘er, baby!”

Rick laughed loudly, too drunk to care about anything except the entertainment factor as he stood to the side and watched. “Ohh, shit! We’re about to get kicked outta _this_ bar, too!”

But Michonne, who hadn’t been drinking nearly as heavily as everyone else, was too preoccupied with Andrea to pay her partner any mind. She visibly held Andrea back before pushing her towards the restroom. “C’mon, Andrea. Let’s go to the bathroom. Just calm down, okay? You’re _drunk_ —I’m trying to _help_ you.”

A few patrons within the bar had stopped and turned to watch the scene, but quickly lost interest once they realized there wasn’t going to be any physical fighting. The bartender couldn’t give a shit less until he saw fists flying, so he was just watching with amusement.

Merle was still laughing, and Frankie was still fuming. Though Michonne was shoving Andrea towards the restroom.

Then Frankie grabbed Merle’s arm and said, “Let’s go outside—you need a smoke?”

“Fuck yeah,” Merle agreed. “D’you?”

“Obviously.”

When they turned around and saw Daryl standing a few feet away, they paused. 

“ _There_ you are,” Frankie huffed.

“Shit, where the fuck’d you go?” Merle asked.

“I’s takin’ a piss,” Daryl said.

Merle scoffed. “Well ya better get yer _bitch_ in check ‘fore my girl whoops her ass!” Then he threw his head back and laughed loudly.

“Don’t feed the fire, Merle. C’mon,” Frankie urged, pulling him towards the front door and grabbing her purse on the way out.

Daryl stood frozen, torn in two different directions.

He watched as Michonne and Andrea disappeared into the women’s restroom on one side of the room. And then he glanced back and watched as Frankie and Merle disappeared out the front door on the other side of the room. 

Well, it wasn’t like he could follow his girlfriend into the restroom. Besides, she had Michonne with her, and surely Michonne was taking her in there in an effort to talk some sense into her. Hopefully…?

Then Daryl looked over and saw Rick sitting at the empty table closest to the dartboard, where everyone had set their things for the time being. He was completely indifferent to the whole situation, his eyes glassy and a lopsided grin on his face. He had his beer in one hand and his phone in the other, and Daryl could only guess that he was drunkenly scrolling through social media in search of new memes. 

“Hey,” Daryl said.

Rick raised his head and smiled. “What’s up?”

“You good in here? I’mma go out fer a smoke with Merle.”

Rick waved him off. “Yeah, yeah. Go ‘head. Think I’ll give Beth a call an’ see if Carl’s made it home yet.”

“Cool. Tell Andrea I’m outside if she comes out ‘fore I get back in.”

“Sure. Smoke one fer me.” He laughed. “Can’t believe we ain’t been eighty-sixed yet.”

Daryl rolled his eyes and walked away.

* * *

He stepped out of the air-conditioned building into the humid summer night, beer in hand. The door fell shut behind him, muffling the noise and music inside the bar. There were a few other people loitering around outside, smoking cigarettes and chatting amongst one another, their drunken laughter echoing out into the road and the surrounding fields.

But Daryl turned and followed the familiar sound of Merle’s cackling and Frankie’s voice. He walked down to the end of the building and rounded the corner. 

“—and he _hates_ it when you piss out here!”

“Like I give a flyin’ fuck what that asshole bartender doesn’t like. When I gotta go, I gotta go! You gonna rat me out, woman?!”

“No! But that’s one of the only bartenders in town who’ll still serve us, babe!”

They were hanging out in the shadowy spot of the grass at the side of the building. Merle was turned towards the wall with his hands on his dick, taking a piss. And Frankie was standing right beside him, looking around cautiously.

She spotted Daryl as he approached and immediately recognized him, waving him over with a smile. Merle craned his head around, still pissing, and grinned.

“An’ there’s Darylina!”

Daryl rolled his eyes and stopped a few feet away, pretending not to notice that Merle had his dick in his hand while he pissed against the side of the building.

He looked at Frankie. “I was only gone fer two minutes, the fuck happened in there?”

Frankie’s smile disappeared and she rolled her eyes. “Nothing. Andrea’s just being drunk and belligerent.”

Merle chimed in, “Listen, Daryl, you really need ta put that _bitch_ in her place, ‘cause—”

“Shut up, Merle. You’re drunk and belligerent, too,” Frankie cut him off with a stern look.

“I’m tipsy _at best_!” Merle insisted, chuckling. Then he turned back to focus on shaking his dick off.

“So what’d she say?” Daryl asked, looking to Frankie for an explanation. “Or what’d _he_ say?”

Frankie crossed her arms over her chest. “She missed all her shots with the darts and Merle made a joke and she fuckin’ lost her shit.”

Daryl stiffened, clutching the beer in his hand tightly. “What joke?”

Merle zipped his pants back up and turned to face Daryl. “I said, _‘boo, Andrea! Boooo!’_ And she fuckin’ freaked out.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Daryl snapped. He looked at Frankie. “What’d he _really_ say?”

Frankie quirked a brow, smirking. “That’s literally what he said. Next thing we knew, she was calling Merle an illiterate hillbilly and threatening to kick his ass.”

Daryl sighed, rolling his eyes. “Fucking Christ.”

“Like I said,” Merle said, stepping over to stand close to Frankie. “Ya need ta get’cher _bitch_ in check.”

“Hey—”

“Seriously, Daryl,” Frankie cut him off. “No offense, but he’s right—like, I know she’s your girlfriend and all, but she can be kind of a _cunt_.”

Merle barked out a laugh.

Frankie went on, “I’ve tried to be nice and get along, but she just keeps finding reasons to start shit, and I’m not gonna stand by and keep my mouth shut while she calls my man an illiterate hillbilly. I’m gettin’ pretty tired of this high school bullshit.”

Daryl sighed and shook his head in defeat. “I know. I’m sorry. She’s jus’ drunk.”

He simply didn’t have the energy to defend his girlfriend right now. Or to worry about what she was angry about this time. It all felt so… _unimportant_.

“ _You_ don’t need to be sorry. She’s an adult, she makes her own choices,” Frankie assured.

“Don’t matter anyhow,” Merle said, reaching into his pocket to pull out a crumpled cigarette pack and put one between his lips. “We got bigger things ta worry ‘bout besides which stick is up Andrea’s ass this time. Shit, we got a _baby_ on the way.” He lit up his smoke and took a long drag, grinning proudly.

Frankie mumbled an agreement, then she was rifling through her purse for a second. She pulled out a tiny plastic pencil case and opened it to extract a thin paper joint. She put it between her lips and Merle handed her the lighter, which she used to light the end of the tightly-rolled paper. She took a long pull and exhaled with relief.

“You s’posed ta do that while yer pregnant?” Daryl asked, eyeballing the joint pinched between her fingers and the cloud of smoke that was dissipating above her.

Frankie smiled and said, “Actually, all the studies say that cannabis doesn’t cause any long-term effects to fetal development. It’s the only thing that helps my morning sickness—and it’s the one vice I can hold onto for the next seven months.”

“Oh,” Daryl said. “Didn’t know that.”

“What’re you, the _fun police_?” Merle remarked. “Don’t worry ‘bout what my baby mama does.”

“Fuck off.”

Merle laughed, and Frankie cracked a smile as she took another hit off the joint and held it in her lungs.

A moment passed, during which the Dixon brothers were smoking their cigarettes, Daryl was sipping his beer, and Frankie was smoking her joint (and occasionally passing it to Merle in between his drags of nicotine), and they were all just trying to relax.

And for the briefest second, Daryl wanted to ask them why they’d chosen Rick and Michonne over him and Andrea. But he quickly decided that was a conversation for another day.

Besides, there was something else that was weighing a lot heavier on his mind.

Frankie was still young, he figured. She still seemed to be in the loop of things. A lot better than Merle or Daryl or Rick was. And maybe it was a stretch, but Daryl needed answers. He needed clarity. _Any_ kind of clarity.

And he wasn’t about to go asking Carl or Tara about this kinda thing. That would just be embarrassing.

“So. Weird question,” he started uncertainly, head lowered as he stared down at his boots and smoked his cigarette. “But…”

“Oh!” Frankie said eagerly. “I _love_ weird questions.”

“This should be good,” Merle muttered.

Daryl cleared his throat and took a long swig of beer and another drag off his smoke. He barely lifted his head to meet Frankie’s eyes as he asked, “You, uh—ya ever heard of a ‘ _vibe check_ ’?”

Frankie grinned and Merle cackled.

“Wait,” she said. “ _That’s_ the question?”

Daryl nodded meekly.

“Hol’ the fuck up, I _know_ this one!” Merle exclaimed.

Before Daryl could ask what he meant, Merle rushed forward and smacked him upside the head. “Vibe check!”

Daryl reeled, prepared to hit Merle back, but Frankie burst out laughing and said, “Babe! We could’ve just _explained_ it!”

“The best explanation is a demonstration,” Merle said matter-of-factly.

Daryl scowled and rubbed at the spot on his head where Merle had smacked him. He took another drag off his cigarette and spoke on the exhale, “That’s it, huh?”

“Kind of,” Frankie explained. “I mean—I dunno how else to really explain it. It’s kind of a joke, but not really. If that makes sense. I mean… You have _vibes_ , right? Everybody does. And sometimes those vibes need to be… erm, _checked_.”

“ _Hm_ ,” Daryl grunted. “Guess that makes sense.” 

He was pretty sure he understood it. At least in the context that Beth had used.

_“There’s vibe checks and then there’s… whatever your gf is doing.”_

Shit.

If that’s what she’d meant, then it _definitely_ wasn’t good.

“Why d’you ask?” Frankie pondered. “Has Carl been sending you memes that you don’t understand again?”

Merle laughed and Daryl felt his ears growing hot. He was grateful for the dim outdoor lighting. 

“Nah.”

“Quite the _opposite_ , actually,” Merle chimed in, grinning devilishly. He shot Frankie a look and said, “‘Member how I told ya he’s got a side chick in college?”

Frankie’s eyes went wide with realization. “Oh, shit! Those _panties_ —?!”

But Daryl hurriedly explained, “She’s not a _side chick_ —“

“See?!” Merle was laughing all too knowingly. “He don’t even wanna _call_ ‘er a side chick!”

“Oh my _god_!” Frankie burst out, absolutely gleeful.

Daryl halted. “No, wait, I didn’t—“ 

“I thought it was just some random fuck,” Frankie said, grinning. “But this is like—“

“He’s catchin’ _feelings_ , babe,” Merle cackled. “Look’t him! He gets all red every time ya mention her!”

“Goddammit, Merle,” Daryl growled. “It ain’t _like_ that.”

“Then what _is_ it like?” Frankie insisted, arching an eyebrow.

“We’re just screwin’ around fer the summer,” Daryl argued. “She leaves next week. She’s got a boyfriend back at school.”

Frankie’s eyes widened. Merle finished his cigarette and tossed it out, then he reached for the half-smoked joint in her hand, still chuckling. She let him take it, still staring at Daryl like she expected him to go on.

“What?” He asked, growing defensive. “That’s it.”

She rolled her eyes and chuckled. “That is definitely _not_ it. You both have significant others, but you’ve been fucking for the past couple weeks? And you _don’t_ wanna call her a side chick? _And_ she left her panties at your house? Dude…”

“It was an accident,” Daryl insisted. “She didn’t _mean_ ta leave ‘em behind. She ain’t like that.”

“Hey, whatever you say,” Frankie said. “I really _hope_ she didn’t leave them behind on purpose, because that would be some petty shit. College girls can be petty as fuck, but—“

“She ain’t _like that_ ,” Daryl repeated sternly.

Frankie laughed, putting up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay! I believe you, Daryl. Jeez.”

Merle scoffed, exhaling a thick cloud of skunky weed smoke. “That’s the only part he _ain’t_ in denial about.”

“Clearly,” Frankie smirked knowingly.

“See how _defensive_ he gets?” Merle teased.

Daryl growled, “Merle, if you don’t shut the fuck up…”

Frankie laughed. “Yeah. I definitely see it.”

Shit. Daryl was quickly regretting confiding in these two. 

He tossed out his cigarette and moved to turn away and start walking towards the front door. “Y’know what, forget I ever asked.”

“Oh, c’mon! Lighten up, li’l brother!” Merle cried.

But Frankie was stepping forward, reaching out and grabbing Daryl’s arm gently to stop him. “Daryl—I was _kidding_. Lighten up a little. I already helped you by covering for those panties, didn’t I? So let me help you out here.”

He stopped and hesitated, but only because he respected her. Then he turned back to face the couple, frowning as he took a long swig of beer. 

Merle and Frankie exchanged a look, then Frankie asked, “So why did you wanna know what a vibe check is? You havin’ trouble keeping up with this girl’s lingo?”

Daryl shrugged and averted his gaze. “Sum’n like that,” he mumbled.

Merle cackled and passed the joint to Daryl, but Daryl shook his head.

“What? You don’t wanna hit this?” Merle asked.

“Nah. Andrea hates when I smoke,” Daryl replied.

Merle rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh.

“Jesus,” Frankie murmured, her smile quickly turning into a frown. “You really _do_ need help. In more ways than one.”

“Stop fuckin’ judging me,” Daryl said, meeting her gaze again. “Said you’d _help_ , not jus’ poke fun.”

Frankie and Merle shared a laugh. 

“We’re not _judging_ you,” Frankie assured. “And I never said I wouldn’t poke fun. I’m just… in awe of your willful ignorance.”

Daryl grunted, displeased. “Fuck off.”

“I’m serious. What you need right now is a _woman’s_ perspective,” she said. “Don’t feel bad; you’re not the first guy to be blinded by love.”

Merle barked out a laugh.

“ _Lust_ ,” Daryl corrected.

Frankie looked at him indignantly and asked, “ _Really_? ‘Cause from what Merle’s told me—“

Daryl turned on Merle and snapped, “I told you ta keep yer big mouth _shut_ , asshole.”

Merle started to argue back, “Hey! I already _told_ you—”

But Frankie glanced over and cut him off abruptly. “Babe, I love you, but please shut the fuck up for a second so I can help your brother.”

Merle snapped his lips shut and took a half-step back. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Good luck.”

Frankie ignored him and turned her focus back to Daryl. “This isn’t _about_ what Merle has or hasn’t told me. I’m asking _you_ : what’s she been saying that’s got you so confused?”

Daryl relaxed the slightest bit and stared back at Frankie’s expectant eyes, unsure of where to start. He shrugged awkwardly. “‘S not really what she says. More like… what she _doesn’t_ say. We don’t really talk ‘cept over text. An’ she posts a lotta shit on social media.”

“Oh?” Frankie perked up, intrigued. “Like what?”

Daryl shrugged again. “I’ono. Song lyrics an’ poetry an’ shit. Weird hashtags that don’t make no sense.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Ohhh. She’s one of _those_. Okay. So what do these lyrics and hashtags say? Which part doesn’t make sense to you?”

“Shit,” he admitted. “ _All_ of it.”

Frankie asked with a surprising amount of patience, “Well, can I get an example?”

He sighed and paused for a moment. Racking his brain. There were so many things that didn’t make sense to him. Where should he even start (without giving too much away)?

“I’ono. Er…” He hesitated. “What the fuck is ‘hot girl summer’?”

Frankie’s smirk faltered. “Oh. Shit. She posted that?”

“Yeah.”

“Well—in what context?”

“I dunno about context, but it was a hashtag on some pics of her an’ her friends gettin’ lit.”

“Hm. Okay.” Frankie seemed to contemplate this information for a second. Then she asked, “So you’ve _never_ heard of a hot girl summer?” She glanced over at Merle. “ _Either_ of you?”

Daryl shook his head.

Merle shrugged cluelessly. “I seen a lotta hashtags ‘bout hot girls, but never that one.”

“Okay, well,” she said. “It’s—I dunno. I guess it’s kinda like a ho phase? But shorter.”

Daryl was still confused, and his expression showed as much.

“Oh!” Merle cried out, snapping his fingers and grinning like he’d just solved a puzzle. He shot Daryl a look and said, “She’s sowin’ her wild oats.”

Daryl’s heart dropped. He looked to Frankie for confirmation. “What—for real?”

Frankie cut in, “No, it’s not _exactly_ the same as sowing your wild oats. It’s more like…” She paused and bit her lip, searching for the right words. Then she stepped forward and held out her hand. “Okay, here. Open Google and gimme your phone.”

“What for?” He eyed her suspiciously.

She rolled her eyes and held her hand out expectantly. “Just do it. I’m gonna show you something.”

Daryl did as she instructed and pulled out his phone, unlocking it and opening the browser app to go straight to Google. Then he handed the phone over to Frankie, and she leaned in close while she showed him what she was doing. Merle stepped closer and peered over her shoulder to see, as well.

“Google is your _friend_ , Daryl,” she said.

Daryl watched as she typed into the search bar.

_define:hot girl summer_

She pressed Search and a second later, the page was filled with results. The result at the very top was a definition from some website called “Urban Dictionary.” She handed the phone back over and let him see for himself.

He squinted down at the screen and read the definition.

 **_Hot girl summer_ ** _is a meme, originating with rapper Megan Thee Stallion, about feeling confident in who you are—and having fun and looking good while doing it. It often involves women posting selfies with summery swag and style using the caption (I heard it's)_ **_hot girl summer_** _._

He read it three times before locking the phone screen and shoving it back into his pocket. 

“So it’s not _really_ like sowin’ yer wild oats,” he inferred.

“No, not really,” Frankie confirmed. “But it _is_ about knowing how hot you are and having fun with it.”

“ _Huh_ ,” Merle remarked. He clicked his tongue and said, “‘S just like I thought. I’ll bet she’s been crushin’ on you fer a _hot minute_ —jus’ took her a couple years to realize you was _easy_.” He cackled.

“Fuck off,” Daryl snapped reflexively.

But Frankie’s eyes were going wide and lighting up with intrigue. “Wait—so you’ve _known_ this girl? For _years_?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Daryl said, going stiff and taking a swig of beer to try and disguise his obvious discomfort. “Ain’t nobody you ever heard of.”

Frankie scoffed. “ _Really?_ This town has a population of like, less than four-thousand. And you only associate with about a dozen people.”

Daryl kept his mouth shut, staring back at his brother’s girlfriend with defiance.

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “You are so ridiculous. I’m _gonna_ find out one way or another.” She turned to Merle and asked, “Who is it?”

Merle froze. He looked over at Daryl, but the corner of his mouth was already curling up into a devilish smirk.

Daryl gave him a stern yet pleading look and simply grunted, “Please don’t.”

Merle sucked his teeth while Frankie anxiously glanced back and forth between the brothers, expecting an answer.

“I’mma tell ‘er.”

“Merle. _Don’t_.”

“I _have_ to—“

“I swear ta God—“

“I can’t _not_ —“

“I’ll slap the ever-living _fuck_ out of you if—”

As soon as Merle’s eyes flicked back over to Frankie’s, the words burst from his mouth: “It’s _Beth_! Beth fuckin’ Greene!”

“You fuckin’ son of a—!” Daryl reared back, preparing to hit his brother in the face.

But Frankie grabbed his arm and pushed him back before he could get any closer. He relented without question, though he didn’t want to. She was smiling, but she gave Daryl a stern look that forced him to surrender. Merle laughed obnoxiously.

“Daryl—okay, first of all, what the _fuck_ ,” Frankie said. She slapped Merle on the arm to disrupt his laughter, then she asked Daryl, “Greene? As in _Hershel_ _Greene’s_ daughter?”

Daryl stood stiff and stoic, glaring at Merle with pure contempt.

“Yup,” Merle confirmed, grinning smugly. “That’s the one, babe. Maggie an’ Shawn’s baby sister.”

Frankie audibly stifled a laugh of disbelief. “Oh, fuck.” 

Well. Daryl reckoned he should’ve known Merle would blow his cover eventually.

At least he could be confident in knowing that Frankie was good at keeping her fucking mouth shut. Unlike her baby daddy.

He cleared his throat and met Frankie’s eyes with hesitation. And shame. “Yeah. She’s friends with Andrea’s little sister. They’ve been hangin’ out all summer.”

Might as well lay out _all_ the stakes, just to ensure that Frankie had an idea of how high—and uncomfortably connected—those stakes were.

Her eyes got even wider, if that was possible. “Oh, _fuck_.”

“That’s what I said,” Merle muttered. “Now ya see why I call ‘im a dumbass all the time?”

“Hey,” Daryl snapped. “Fuck you.”

“No, fuck _you_!” Merle shot back.

“Both of you shut up,” Frankie said. “You’re not a dumbass, Daryl. But this is a little… _reckless_. If Andrea were to find out…”

Daryl sighed. “Don’t remind me. It’s just a fling. Ain’t gonna go no further once she goes back to school.”

“ _Hah!_ ” Merle barked out. “Too late. Y’all already went past the fuckin’ barn.”

Frankie glanced over at Merle with confusion. “Past the barn?”

“If ya passed the barn, ya done went too far,” Merle said plainly. “An’ you best believe li’l Darylina here already _passed the barn_ ‘bout five miles back.”

Daryl shot his brother a scathing look. But Merle just laughed.

“Shit.” Frankie rolled her eyes. But when she looked back to Daryl, she was frowning. Like she agreed. “This is one hell of a pickle you’ve gotten yourself into, dude.”

Daryl took a swig of beer and waved her words away. “‘M not in any kinda _pickle_. Merle just loves blowin’ things outta proportion.”

Merle objected, “ _You’re_ the one blowin’ things outta proportion. Wasn’t you just askin’ fer my opinion on the matter less’an four hours ago?”

Frankie arched an eyebrow and Daryl wavered. He drained the rest of his beer and tossed the empty bottle into the grass.

“I’m way outta my fuckin’ league anyhow.” He looked to Merle. “Said it yerself. So why would I bother.”

“I didn’t mean it like _that_ ,” Merle countered.

“Wait, wait—wait a second,” Frankie interrupted, silencing both men. “Lemme get this straight…” She pointed a lazy finger at Daryl and looked him dead in the eyes. “So you’re maintaining this long-term relationship with Andrea, but for the last couple of weeks, you’ve been fucking Beth Greene—the youngest daughter of the guy you used to work for sometimes—while she’s home for the summer, and now that you’ve _been_ fucking her, she’s suddenly been posting stuff to social media that confuses you… Am I getting this right?”

Daryl could feel his cheeks burning, but he nodded and confirmed with a grunt, “I guess. Pretty much.”

Frankie was visibly stifling her authentic reaction. Instead, she put on a smile of understanding and asked, “And… how did it even _start_? Like—I’m trying to picture how the two of you even _got_ to the point of fucking each other in the first place, and…” She trailed off, looking at Daryl expectantly.

He groaned and averted his gaze. “Long story.”

Merle cackled. “So give ‘er the Cliffnotes.”

Daryl huffed out an agitated breath and muttered, “I messaged her on Instagram one night when I was drunk, an’ it just… escalated from there. She said she’s had a crush on me since she was a teenager. I’ono if it’s true or not.”

“Oh. Oh, _wow_ ,” Frankie said. “So… since you’ve been fucking, she’s been posting stuff to her social media? Like— _suggestive_ stuff? _Meaningful_ stuff?”

Daryl shook his head and shifted his weight uncomfortably, still averting his gaze. He responded defensively, “I’on’t fuckin’ know. Just _stuff_. Don’t mean nothin’. ‘S just a bit of rough while she’s home fer the summer. Who fuckin’ cares.”

“Well,” Frankie told him. “ _You_ should kinda care. It _could_ be ‘just a bit of rough,’ or it could _actually_ mean something—shit, did you even _look_ at the lyrics for that _Hot Girl Summer_ song? It’s more than just a hashtag, ya know.”

“Huh?” Daryl asked, clueless.

Frankie sighed with annoyance and quickly pulled her phone out of her purse. She spent a few seconds typing and tapping hurriedly, then she was staring down at the screen and reading aloud.

_“Hot Girl Summer, so you know she got it lit. Look, college girl, but a freak on the weekend, eat that dick up even when I’m going vegan. He be trippin’ on me and I know the reasons. I gotta break up with my—boyfriend—every season. Real hot girl shit, I got one or two baes…”_

She cleared her throat and raised her eyes to meet Daryl’s. “It doesn’t really say ‘boyfriend,’ and I’m not gonna say the word they used—but I think you get the gist.”

Merle interrupted, “The fuck is ‘one or two baes’?”

Frankie quickly explained, “Lovers. Or fuck buddies. Romantic partners.”

“Oh. Side dudes.”

“Yeah. Kinda.”

“Wait—side _dicks_.”

“Um, sure, babe.”

“It’s just a song,” Daryl muttered. “She posts a lotta songs.”

Frankie raised her eyebrows and shoved the phone back into her purse. “Oh, really? Like what?”

Shit. Shouldn’t have mentioned that.

Nonetheless, he found the words pouring from his mouth, “Like that _Mr. Brightside_ song. She likes ta sing. Plays guitar. She’s real good. Does a lotta covers.”

Merle barked out a laugh. “Hey, I know that one!”

But whatever further comment he was about to make was cut off by Frankie. “ _Mr. Brightside_? When did she post _that_?”

Daryl shrugged. He searched Frankie’s face for clues as to why she was asking. But he couldn’t quite figure it out. So he answered honestly, “The ‘safternoon.”

Frankie smiled knowingly. “While you were with Andrea? While Beth _knew_ you were with Andrea?”

He did not respond this time. Didn’t even react. Wouldn’t allow his face to portray any sort of expression. He had a feeling he’d already revealed too much.

“I guess,” he grumbled flatly. “Why does that matter?”

Merle threw his head back and laughed obnoxiously. But Frankie was just shaking her head, as though she pitied Daryl.

Merle straightened up and, before Frankie could say anything, he remarked, “I reckon _some_ people think cucumbers taste better _pickled_.”

What the fuck did that mean?

Daryl found himself asking that question a lot lately. Especially now.

Even more so considering the addition of Frankie’s insights.

The Snaps. The texts. The emojis. The memes. The sex tapes. The captions and lyrics and Stories and photos and hashtags. The lingering kisses. The visible hickies. The soft whispers on the brink of orgasm. 

What the fuck did _any_ of it mean?

**to be continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tragedy has struck in my real life, so I apologize, but there will be a bit of a delay on the next chapter. Like a week or two. Until then, I leave you with this slightly longer chapter full of Merle & Frankie goodness. Hope you enjoyed :)


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